And really, that’s all I can say right now.
It’s just not fucking fair.
I’ve spent the last 2 days in and out of the hospital; being poked, prodded, and tested.
While I am immensely grateful to everyone who is pushing for testing; and more grateful to those doing the testing; if I hear one more time that “oh, I had that procedure done by ___ and I was back on my feet within a week or two” I’m going to fucking scream.
I am. I am very grateful to every medical professional who has listened to my story and who is pushing for testing and ordering more tests and trying to get everything together so that when I meet my new specialist; the one who has done everyone else’s surgery successfully with NO COMPLICATIONS; he might be able to give me answers as to what in the blue fuck is going on with my body.
I am so grateful.
I’m grateful for every conversation, every hug, every poke, every image, every needle prick… I’m grateful for the tests and the one more test and the hugs and the compassion.
But why? Why do I have to be going through this? It’s just not fucking fair.
I feel like I’ve given an ocean of bodily fluids the last two days. I feel like I’ve had every inch of my abdominal area imaged. I feel like I’ve been poked, prodded, and looked at enough.
Thankfully, I also feel heard.
But it’s still not fucking fair.
I’m grateful that everyone can tell me that I am being referred to the best in the business; that he’ll figure it out; that if anyone can fix me, he will.
But I feel short-changed that I had to go through all of this bullshit to get to this point… the point where I may actually have some hope of getting my fucking life back.
I hope the man that comes with such strong recommendations and such a great track record for getting women back on their feet and back to their lives can help.
If he can’t, then what?
Oh god; don’t even think that thought. There can’t be a then what. There can’t.
I’ve had enough.