It’s been a week since we did Boy Blue’s blood work. As of Friday, when last our gastro called, we were still waiting on some of the results, and he ordered an abdominal ultrasound because of some of the results that had already returned. We’re waiting for the 22nd, which was the earliest time Radiology could get us in. We’re waiting on the results of the rest (and those results will likely call for even more work.) In a way I’m glad this part is taking so long; the longer you think about something the more likely you are to accept it. I’m coming around to some of the things Dr. Kim suggested, things I initially dismissed as impossible.
Paul is in a holding pattern with four different jobs right now. One of them is only part-time, and we’re hoping to bundle it with another job (which means we’re also hedging our bets that he can telecommute with that job.) There’s only so far follow-ups can take you. And then … we wait.
I’ve said it before: I think waiting is my natural state.
May was a very difficult month for me. The Governator wants to cancel the health insurance plan covering my boys as well as a million other children in the state (causing more problems and losing more money than any small-term gains, but I digress.) The job search drags on and we lost the ability to say, “but at least we’ve got health!” Additionally I’ve had some very dark personal days having nothing to do with health and very little to do with our economic situation.
The trick is, as in every other difficult event, to put one foot ahead of the other. There is so much at stake, my sweet boys most of all. They need me to keep it together. As long as I think short-term, I’m fine. I can make it one more day.
I never thought I’d be saying that every day for eight months. Today it has been eight months.