When your doctor sighs and says he’s sorry…
Then you have to know your appointment is not going to go as well as you had hoped.
Yesterday when i woke up, I found that my entire right side was in agony.
Added to that, I realised I could not move my right hand properly. I couldn’t close it or open it reliably, and I didn’t seem able to hold anything in it.
Not to panic, just go back to sleep. This is what I told myself and this is what I did.
Hours later, still in pain and distressed that my sugar was struggling to come much above 4 (again, we want it at around 6…even 7 after eating, which I had) I dragged my miserable self to my doctor.
This is the hallway where I waited to be seen.
Behind these doors were the answers. Or so I had hoped.
What I got was a sympathetic hand rub. And a sigh. And a, “I’m sorry, but I just…don’t know what else to do.”
One day I’ll talk about the diagnoses- multiple- all of which are theoretical shots in the dark, because the bottom line is that I remain a medical mystery. But that day is not today; it can’t be. I just can’t, today.
I give myself until the weekend to rally back, but for right now I’m going to sit here in the shallow end of self pity and swish my legs around a bit. I won’t go all the way in. Just a little bit of toe dipping and suchlike, as I try to gather my strength and my faith about me for the fight ahead.
I have no idea what’s in store, but I know one HECK of a blog will be born from it. Perhaps even several hecks of blogs? We’ll see how it all plays out.
And just for today…all the cookies you could possibly want.