Year two was simply about riding the waves. Grief. Joy. Turmoil. Uncertainty. I never knew from one day to the next. Test after test. I was barely holding on. One night I realized something was horribly wrong. Face on fire. Sick. Achy. And alone. I grabbed Angel and raced to Urgent Care. Just as I suspected. Cellulitis. Another bug sting. Awful. I had to watch it. Scary. No one there. My face was swelling. What do I do? No Gregger. Again. I couldn’t be around Ashley. She was in the midst of IVF. I wouldn’t let her risk it. So I was alone. Drove to the ER. Ugh! Walked in. Waited in that cold, dreary place. Gregger. Where are you? You should be here holding my hand. And just as I suspected, I was admitted. Not even a room. A bed with a curtain. No bathroom. Shared with a bunch of strangers. Gross. Gregger would never let that happen. But there I was.
One day stretched into two. Then three. Then four. I begged to go home. They finally moved me to a private room. I stared out the window. Clouds. Gregger. Are you there? GET ME OUT OF HERE! Finally. But with conditions. A pick line. A portable IV. That didn’t sound too bad. I could handle that. Or so I thought. Not! I couldn’t shower. Couldn’t change clothes. Couldn’t be without this massive bag hanging from my arm. They left out those pertinent details. So back to the ER I went. Out it came. Or part of it. Three trips back to the ER before the mess was gone.Two weeks of hell. But I made it. Another test. I passed. They say the difference between school and life is that “in school you’re taught a lesson then given a test. In life, you’re given a test that teaches you a lesson.” I was learning. Getting stronger. But I begged for a break. A pass. Time out. Whatever. No more tests. At least for a while. Hadn’t I proved myself these past two years? I will never stop growing, but does it always have to be so hard? I needed some happy news. Joy. And a little hope. Maybe tomorrow…
To be continued…