For me, this month simply meant two things: doctors… doctors… an all-important MRI exam… and yep, more doctors. Maybe by the end of November it would mean one more thing: a diagnosis. …Maybe.
This past Tuesday marked James’ and my four-month wedding anniversary. Four months… meaning almost a half a year together! Half a YEAR! So many aspects in my life have changed. The way I think. The way I act. How I feel. Our present and future, colliding into one large bubbling-over life together. Married life. And it’s all so completely, wonderfully overwhelming.
Getting married and going on a honeymoon with your newbie husband is one of the most meaningful, private, exciting moments in life. And right then, my mind was made up to share our adventure.
Again, again, again, again… and again. Five times. That’s how many times James and I had problems with our health solely in the month of May. In fact, there were so many health fiascos, I started keeping a list in my head.
Soon, James and I will be married. And instead of relishing in our wedding plans, I’m concentrating on November. November means doctors, and tests, and possibly answers.
James told me recently he doesn’t necessarily believe people are given more than they can handle. Instead, he thinks people are given what they and their support group can handle. I’m beginning to believe this.
My MRI is scheduled, and I have no idea what the future holds.
This is something I don’t want to admit, and yet, the thing that set it all in motion. Every. thing. in. motion. I *see* that now…