It all comes back to me now...

What a rough week.

We had an appointment on Thursday with Medical Genetics at Children's Hospital. We didn't know what the appointment was for. I guess we've gotten into the habit of taking the appointments without asking too many questions.

Anyhow - we figured that with it being genetics, it wasn't likely to be "new" news, so we didn't worry too much. Or so we thought. It turns out that just the fact that we are going to Children's Hospital for an appointment means that all of the old wounds that we have managed to heal up over the summer have just been ripped open again. Our illusion of normality is shattered. My world is once again in turmoil, and I am finding myself without solid footing, being swept along in a sea of emotions. And I'm the designated "strong one". I can only imagine what Allison is feeling.

I don't like what it has done to me this week. I've booked my calander full to overflowing, and my time management skills are taking a beating. Plus I'm grumpy. I've got a short fuse, and the kids seem to be taking the brunt of it. It's not their fault. But I'm not sure I realized why this was happening until I started thinking about blogging it. I figured I was just too busy, or too tired. Both of those make me grumpy, but not like this. I think I was lashing out in the same way a drowning person flails looking for something to grab onto - not caring who they step on, or drag under in their quest for solid ground.

I need to recognize this. I can't do it on my own. I shouldn't even try. How quickly I forget life's lessons and am forced to relearn them.

Oh yeah. The tiles are finished. The playset is all assembled. I didn't make it before my business trip, but I finished it now. Major load off my mind. Thanks again to everyone who helped/prayed.

Thanks!

Thanks to all of you who pitched in!

The tiles are all installed (except the last 2 custom cuts). I need to put the slide back on, and hook the swing up, and bolt the monkey bars on. So, 2 bolts, 4 nuts, and 2 tiles.

I might even get this done before my buisness trip tomorrow. I really hope so.

Today's been a rough day. Server problems again have put me in a down mood that is susceptible to Doug downturns. Pray for the cloud to be lifted from my mood so I can enjoy the kids before I fly off...

Calling all cars, Calling all cars...

I just looked downstairs, and there, sitting in my garage, is a HUGE pile of play tiles.

They are HERE!

Now, I need to get them in, and I'm going to be calling more than a couple people to help me. Please watch your inbox for details, or better yet - call me if you want to pitch in. This is what the plan is so far.. [[edit - plan web site removed]]

Fear not, all of the gory details WILL be featured in a big blog entry - or maybe even a WEB PAGE. [[edit - didn't happen]]

The Tiles are coming, the Tiles are coming!!!

Wow. What a season of up and downs. I've been trying to get a set of balance friendly playground tiles for Doug for several months now. There's been a company willing to help, and me willing to install it. But there has been roadblock after roadblock after roadblock. First, every single agency that wanted to help in terms of sorting out the charitable status of things hit a Revenue Canada wall. Then, once that was surmounted, there was the shipping costs. Several hopeful leads led to nothing. Finally, a shipper has stepped up and offered to help out. I don't even know who they are yet, but they've offered to ship the entire pallet for only $200. And thanks to some of my other shipping quests, I even have a spot to ship them too with a forklift!

Door after door after door have been slamming in our faces on this since we began. It seems, however, that everytime one closes, eventually another opens. I don't know if I'm being taught patience or persistence. The tiles are loaded on a pallet at the factory, and just waiting for the shipper to pick them up. They could be here as early as the end of next week. This is an answer to many a prayer.

I'm getting a little freaked out over the job of installing them now. It has always been at the bottom of the list. First priority was to get them here. Then I was going to worry about how the heck I was going to get them in. I'm starting to worry. :)

I'm going to do what any computer geek would do in a case like this. I'm going to build a website listing all the things that need to happen. I'll publish a link to it as soon as I'm done. Watch this space. If you feel like you want to help let me know.

Scars

Doug's bandages have come off. They actually came off last week, but I've been so busy lately that blogging hasn't been high on the list.

Doug has a 5cm incision on his leg. This was bandaged under some mysterious type of cellophanish bandage with some traditional gauze on top. Our instructions were very clear - leave the underlying bandage on until it falls off. The closer we followed the instructions, the less of a scar it was to leave.

We were very careful about making sure that this bandage stayed on as long as possible. It lasted until last week, when it started to peel off. The wound underneath has healed completely (Yay!) and what is left is a thin scar. We are dressing this with steri-strips underneath a bandage for the next couple of months. This is to keep the skin held together to reduce the pulling apart of the scar, and to keep it as narrow a scar as possible.

We were much relieved to see that the incision has healed so well. Thanks for all your prayers on this.

How much strength do I need?

I was sitting down the other day thinking about Doug. My emotions on the subject kind of ebb and flow, and I was having a bit of a down day. No reason in particular, nothing new was happening, it just was one of those days. Those of you who have had them know what I mean.

So anyways, I was sitting there thinking to myself "I don't have enough strength to handle this". And in that quiet moment, I could hear what I presume was God's voice answering "No, you don't". (For the record, it sounded nothing like James Earl Jones) So I asked the obvious question - "How can I get more strength". You might be able to see where this is going, but I didn't. The words next in my head were "I can do everything through him who gives me strength". So, I asked for strength. And I still didn't feel I had strength to make it through what I was feeling. That's when I put 3 and 1 together to get 4[1]. I don't have enough strength to make it on my own. That's the whole point. On my own. If I rely on my own strength, I'm going to come up short, and it's going to be very messy. But I'm not on my own. I've got God on my side.

And that's where all of you have come in. We've got countless friends and family (and even aquaintances) who are praying for us, and who are doing little things here and there to make a difference in our lives. You guys are the hands of God reaching into our lives and supplying strength. Thanks.

[1] I was reminded by Gerry that when Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego were thrown into the furnace, God didn't give them the strength to just walk on out. He sent help right into the furnace with them. They weren't alone, and neither am I. [2]

[2] Is there some sort of rule about using footnotes in blogs?

Home from the Hospital

Wow. What a day.

We didn't have to go in to the hospital for the biopsy at an unholy hour, we got to arrive at 11:30. This was good. I still wasn't 100% sure this was the right thing. The doctors all seem to agree that it is, and I can't think of a logical reason that it isn't, but my emotions still haven't quite settled down. At this point I know logically that it is logically the right thing to do, but my emotions haven't caught up. I need to be strong for my family though. Now is not a good time to show fear, kids can smell that sort of thing. (or was it dogs?)

We arrived on time, and were "checked in". Doug got a little gown (it's still wrong that they have to come in that size) and was weighed, thermometered, blood pressured, and stethescoped. All of which went over about as well as screendoors on a submarine. But he settled down. Then it was off to the waiting room. Lots of toys to play with, and Doug was having a pretty good time - which was another good thing, as surgery wasn't scheduled until 1:10. At about 12:15 or so, they started getting him ready for the anesthetic. They put some cream on his hands, covered them with bandages, and a little gauze glove, and then some tape. Again, this didn't go over well. But hey, it's only for an hour right?

Well, by the time 2:30 came around, we were getting pretty hungry. None of us had eaten since the night before, and there was no sign of our surgery call. Finally we hunted down a nurse who informed us we had been bumped - didn't anyone tell us? So we ran out (in shifts) to grab a bite to eat before we passed out on the floor. By now, Doug was pretty much done with the toys in the playroom, and was into exploring doorways and closets. Fortunately, he was ok with the wrappings on his hands by now. They had become his "Motorcycle Glubs".

Doug went in at 3:30, and while Allison was with him for the "putting under" (they use needles for that, and I didn't want to be the one passing out), I sat and thought. I was still waiting for that big voice in my head telling me that this was 100% the right thing to do. I've known for a long time that parents fake knowing the right thing on a lot of stuff, but I always thought that on the REALLY big stuff they knew what they were doing. I was waiting for that big James Earl Jones voice to tell me "Yes. You have done the right thing" or "Stop that scalpel NOW" or even "Luke, I am your father". Anything but silence. Instead I was left with a bunch of random thoughts, and a sense of being in a strange time warp. Here is where I think I was supposed to learn a lesson. If I were to have let go, and placed my worries at God's feet he would have gladly picked them up and carried them for me. Instead, I clung to them, trying to make sense of things out of my own mortal mind. I wonder how often I've done this without knowing it.

25 minutes later it was finished. Recovery went well, and he showed no signs of being sick from the drugs. The surgery went according to plan too - which was good. He is now at home, resting in bed after putting a pretty large dent in a big can of chicken noodle soup. He has even been running around a bit and climbing up furniture. Kids sure are resilient.

I've rambled a lot now, and I should probably stop while I still am making a semblence of sense.

The Biopsy

Doug is scheduled for a muscle biopsy tomorrow. It's purely a diagnostic, and supposively quite routine. The thing is, it's not routine for us.

They're going to take 2 square cm of muscle out of his left thigh. That sounds like a lot of muscle. We've been reassured by the doctor doing the work as well as several physiotherapists and other doctors that it won't impact his development. He is supposed to be up to his old tricks (with some minor pain that Tylenol can handle) in a matter of days. I guess the muscle is a big one, and kids are resiliant or something. The purpose of this is to measure the Dystrophin in his muscles. This is supposed to help figure out the timelines of the onset of his symptoms. This, in turn, is supposed to help decide on treatment options and timing.

But in the meantime, we will have scarred Doug for life. I know, a scar on his leg (5cm- and will grow with him) isn't anything compared to what he will be going through eventually, but it's the first big reminder that he's not a normal 2 year old anymore. The inscision will require some form of dressing or tape on it for 3 months. That's a long time. We've agonized long and hard over the decision to do this. It's not easy to send your child under the knife for "unnecessary" surgery, no matter how competent the doctors are.

And I guess that's why I'm frustrated with the hospital. His surgery is tomorrow - but we still don't know when. We might have to be at the hospital as early as 6am. We might not have to be there until the afternoon. How do you plan around that? The steps for taking care of Samantha when you leave the house at 5am are much different from 2pm. The uncertainly isn't really all that significant, yet it weighs heavily on our minds.

I think this is hitting Allison even harder. Pray for strength and peace of mind for her. And pray for the results. Up to now, we've pretty much received mostly "worst case" news. Not a balance problem, MD. Not Beckers, but Duschene. I'm not sure where the breaking point is, but I really don't want to test my emotional stability anymore.

It's Not About Me

Our small group has been reading the book by Max Lucado "It's not about Me". There's a chapter in it about how our suffering is not about us, but about God. At first read, it's a pretty alien concept. Our pain, our circumstances are for God's glory. But what is so glorious about a crippled child?

I guess the answer to that lies in how we approach our lives. Do we get bogged down in the here and now, or do we think "Big Picture". In order for this to make sense, God must use a different value system than ours. In my "everyday" view of the world, there are so many things that simply cannot make sense for there to be a loving, powerful God. There is war, famine, disease, tsunamis, and sick children. How can that pain and suffering possibly be worth it? What possible glory can there be for God in a disabled child?

I think the key is that the things that we all take for granted as being important - health, safety, comfortable shoes, and even life itself have a different value in God's world. His values centre around a relationship with him. What our physical circumstances are on earth are of secondary importance. His view is eternal, and as a result, is completely different from ours. From time to time, I get a glimpse of this view. It radically changes my attitude and mood, and is extremely freeing. In these moments it is well with my soul. Pray that I would be able to extend the amount of time I live with this view. It might be the key to everything.

Hi, I'm from the Government, and I'm here to help you...

First off, this isn't as ominous as it sounds. Most of the contact we've had with the hundreds of government agencies that we are now aware of have been nothing but positive. As referenced in the "Dog Pile" blog a few weeks back, there's lots of organisations that want to help out. And we appreciate them.

The CCRA (Canada Customs and Revenue Agencies - the tax guys) don't seem to be one of them.

Last year we built a backyard playset for the kids. The plan was to put the pea gravel under it this year, since last year's budget was, well, rather tight. With Doug's balance issues, pea gravel isn't looking to be the way to go anymore. Those soft tiles seem to be the best fit for his needs - but they are PRICEY. A 2 foot square tile seems to be about $40-$50, and we need about 80 of them - just for the tiles. I've been in contact with a few manufacturers, and one of them in particular has been extrodinarily helpful. They seem willing to donate the tiles to us if we handle the shipping costs and if they can get a charitable contribution receipt. The idea is that they would donate to a charity who would give them to us. Except that the CCRA rules don't seem to allow that. I've tried about 3 different charities, and none are permitted to do that.

There may be another way yet, the Langley Child Development Centre has some accounting suggestions that may make this work yet. There may be a way for them to donate directly to us, and still get the tax break.

In the meantime, does anyone know how much it will cost me to get a 2500lb pallet from Ontario here?

Explaining it Simply

Today we told Samantha about Doug's situation. How do you explain the magnitude of something like this to a 5 year old? We basically told her that Doug has been going to the doctors a lot because his muscles aren't working right. It means that he has trouble with his walking and stuff, and that his balance isn't very good. Her job, as a big sister, is to help him out when he is having problems. She is supposed to be more aware of when she is playing running and pushing games with him that he will fall down easier - and it's not his fault. I also asked her to help watch out for him when playing with other kids. Maybe having some protective responsibility will help her feel like she's part of the support team.

I guess time will tell.

Not Alone

Strange as it may seem, the new Pope and I have something in common.

"At a certain point, I prayed to God `please don't do this to me,''' the 78-year-old pontiff recalled. "Evidently, this time He didn't listen to me.''

It's somewhat comforting to know that there are far more studied people than I whose advice isn't necessarily heeded by God. It's a bit of a reminder of who is in charge. If the Pope, who is almost certainly more dilligent and disciplined in his prayer life than me, has to accept that God's will is different than his, then I should be able to as well. A tiny bit of the guilt of "it must be my fault for not praying hard enough" has been lifted.

On an unrelated note, the first bunch of doctor's appointments are done. Nothing really bad came out of cardiology. Doug's heart is a bit bigger than normal[1] (but you can tell that by his sunny disposition). The doctor said that at this point in time it isn't causing him any trouble, and isn't even an indicator of future problems. These tests will be used as a baseline for future comparisons. We really hate the sticker things they use for EKGs though. They stick on waaaaaaay too well.

[1] Technically, it's just his left ventricle that's bigger by not more than 10%.

Dog-Pile!

Well, it seems the medical community has caught up to us.

For the first few months we were abandoned. Left to drift aimlessly in the land of "your son has been diagnosed..." We got the bombshell of a diagnosis, and then floated around "waiting for referrals". We were pretty much ignored by the system.

Now, it appears, our referrals have all gone through. We have appointments with doctors, with specialists, with labs for more tests, with support services, with support groups, and even our dentist is getting in on it. (Although in truth, they really just sort of do this thing every 6 months, and can't be blamed) We've gone from standing in a deep dark cave all alone to the bottom of a medical dog-pile. And would you believe that each one has it's own set of forms to fill out? Don't these people talk to each other? It doesn't seem to matter how many pens we use up, there's always another form.

How long does this continue? Will we be going to a doctor every week now? This is completely foriegn to me. I'm a "once a decade" doctor visitor. I'd put it on the list of questions to ask the doctor, but we're getting so many of those lists, I'll probably end up asking the dentist - who will simply tell me to call them in six months. You know what? I'm beginning to like the dentist's schedule...

Dragon Warrior

You know what the most frustrating part of this whole thing is? The feeling of being cheated.

As a father, my job is to defend my family against all the things in this world that want to hurt them. I am supposed to be the knight in shining armor standing at the drawbridge to my castle. All the bad people that want to pass have to get through me first. You want to take my kid's lunch money? You've gotta deal with me. You want to push my kid over at the playground? You'll be answering to the knight. You want to date my daughter? Not until prove to me that I should let you pass.

OK, so my armor isn't always all that shiny, and my sword looks bigger and sharper than it really is, but it's my RIGHT as a father to get the chance to defend my family - or die trying. Isn't it? Well along comes one of the worlds biggest meanest dragons to my castle, and what happens? He sneaks in the back window and attacks my son. I don't even get a chance. I would trade my life in a heartbeat to be given a fighting chance to defend Doug. But I didn't get the chance to even try. It's not fair. I feel so powerless.

Children's Hospital - First Visit

Today was our first visit to the specialists at Children's hospital. It was a very daunting thing. And early too. Our appointment was FAR too early in the day. How the rest of the world gets up at this time is beyond me. They obviously do, since we spent way more time in traffic than we planned for. We were only 4 minutes late - due primarily to my advanced driving skill.

Waiting was a nerve racking time. On the one hand preparing ourselves for the worst, on the other, praying like crazy that this whole trip was completely wasted. Sitting there I mused about many different things. I was thankful that the entrance wasn't far from the waiting room. I hate hospitals, and just being in one usually makes me feel nausious. This one was different. It was clean and un-clinical like. It felt more like a university than a hospital. It even had a Starbucks. Too bad I don't drink coffee. Anyhow, I was was just sitting there thinking about how it would be just awful to meet people you know in a place like that. Not because it would be awkward, but because you wouldn't wish a trip to the hospital (let alone to Children's Hospital) on anyone else. It's bad enough that you have to be there. Not 10 minutes later we saw people we knew. (Hi Tessa) My mind wasn't ready for that, and I'm sure I looked about as shell shocked as I've been feeling for the last while.

Once we got in to see the doctor (and the resident in tow) things really started to sink in. They were great with Doug, and with us. Unfortunately, the news they had wasn't any better. They reached the same conclusions as our family doctor and the pediatrition. I'm not giving up yet. God is still bigger than this. I do sometimes wonder how to make "having faith in a miracle" and "working within God's plan" work together. If I'm trusting God, and praying for healing, but God's will is for Doug to live with MD, am I being faithful and persistent, or bullheaded and stubborn? I'll have to let this one bounce around in my head for a while. I suspect there is room for both, given the right attitude on my part, but I don't know what that looks like yet.

For now we're back in the waiting game. We have a couple of pieces of paper to fill out, and then we have to wait on various lists. Fortunately, there's nothing really critical that needs to happen, so the only thing that suffers is our patience. I can live with that.

I'm hanging on for now. I'm deferring processing what is really happening until Allison has had a chance to. I'm going to need to be strong for her, and I don't know if I have the strength to work through this myself and be a useful shoulder for her. Once she is through this part, I'll take my turn. Strangely, this seems to work for us.

Another Song

Another song to put on the list of ones that I want to be able to sing again.

"Because he Lives"

'nuff said. (if you know the lyrics, that is)

Songs I Can't Sing

There are few songs that come up, that have just choked me up. I want to be able to sing them again.

1. It is Well With My Soul
2. Amazing Grace
3. Sweet Child of Mine (yes, the one by Guns 'n Roses)

For once it's not the key changes that I'm worried about.

Finally, the Pediatritian

After weeks of waiting for our referrals to be processed we were off to the pediatritian. Even though he is in the same building as our family doctor, it took a couple of weeks to get an appointment, and that appointment wasn't until today.

But I digress...

This had to be the most thorough children's medical exam I've ever seen. Doug was poked and prodded and tested on his motor skills. We were grilled over family history and Doug's skills at home and when he learned to do them. I'll never understand how mother's remember exactly when their kids first sit up, take a step, get teeth, start talking, etc. I just don't have the capacity to remember all that stuff. I guess it's like when your friends have babies. If they call to give you the "news" you better have a pen handy. I figure that all you really need to know is that the kid arrived. It's not like they're going to answer to their name for a few years anyways. But no, if I don't get the names (including middle), height, weight, and time of birth (and gender too with the names these days) I haven't done my job. I usually wimp out and don't answer the phone whenever someone I know is pregnant. It's safer that way. But anyhow, Doug was examined like crazy. The doc left the room for a few minutes to look some stuff up I guess, and then came back indicating that he agreed with the original diagnosis. Another punch to the stomache. In some ways it's good knowing that our family doctor isn't incompatent, but this is one of those cases you wish he was.

So, down to the lab for a few more tests. They needed an EKG and some blood. I don't do needles well. In fact, just typing the "n" word in that last sentence made me feel a little dizzy. There was no lineup at the lab, so I we decided to do it right away, rather than go for lunch and come back. I stayed in the waiting area to reduce the number of unconscious people in the building. Suddenly, from the back room comes the nurse saying that I'm needed. Allison knows darn well how much I love nee*****, so I know it must be important for her to have sent for me. Well, it turns out she didn't. The nurse decided more limb control was needed. I don't think I was much help. The EKG was worse. They had absolutely no child-friendly mannerisms. From now on, in the spirit of Sienfeld, they shall be known as the "Lab Nazis".

Another draining day. Its not like I've run a marathon or anything, but it sucks the life right out of you.

My Goal

I've been doing a lot of thinking about what is my will and what is God's will. I know what my will is. Complete and total miraculous healing done right now. The second part of the thinking is much harder. I cannot see right now how a 2 year old with a life crippling and shortening disease can be better than a happy healthy toddler. I'm pretty sure it has to do with the fact that I'm looking at life from a human perspective rather than an eternal one. What I don't get is how to get that other perspective. It would make things so much more bearable to understand why.

In Luke 22:42 Jesus prayed a very simple prayer. I have a feeling it is exactly the prayer that I'm supposed to be praying right now. In it, Jesus asked "Father, if you are willing, take this cup from me". That part I've got down. I can pray this one easily - and I'm getting lots of practise. He followed up with "yet not my will, but yours be done." That part is a bit of a show stopper. I can pray the words, but I don't mean them. I'm still praying "yet not my will, but yours be done - as long as it involves healing Doug right now". The verses following, an angel from heaven is sent to strengthen Jesus. Oh, how I need that too. But I can't pray that second part. I know I need to, I know how freeing it will be, but I just can't get there. Pray for me that I can get there. I know it will change the way I live life.

What can YOU do?

We frequently get the "if there's anything I can do..." question. We appreciate all the offers. In fact, sometimes the offers themselves offer a ray of sunshine to our days. We will take some of them up.

The things we need most is prayer and understanding. Here's my shortlist:

1. Healing for Doug - God can do it.
2. Faith for me
3. Strength and Energy for all of us

As far as understanding goes, it's basically this: We're in a holding pattern waiting for referals and confirmation of diagnosis. We don't know anything new, and in fact we pretty much don't know anything at all. There are no pressing urgent matters to take care of right now, so we're exploring the "Ignorance is Bliss" statement. Unless we initate a conversation on the latest MD news, please don't. I know you mean well, but we're going to wait for the information to come to us through the regular medical channels. A few more weeks/months of not being experts won't harm Doug and may save our sanity.

It's as bad as being Pregnant

Why do we agonize over the simplest things? We haven't told more than our family and a couple of really close friends about what is going on here. It's not that we want to keep this as a secret. It's not something we're embarassed about, or scared of what people will think. On the contrary, we would love to have people's prayer and support. But telling people is so awkward. I don't have enough emotional strength to tell people one at a time as we meet them. It would drain me completely. But if we do it "en masse" in an e-mail or something, it is cold and impersonal. People need more information, and having them contact us for it would drain us just as badly. We're barely holding our heads above water here on our own.

Our pastor has offered to let our church know for us. He's pretty good at stuff like this. I guess he's had more practise than we have. It's not going to be this Sunday - there's a kids programme going on, and Samantha is in it. She doesn't know yet either. How do you explain something like this to a 5 year old? Anyhow, he'll do it for us next week. That's a massive load off our shoulders. Thanks Wes.

When it rains...

This isn't really related to Doug, except that for the timing.

This week at work sucked. Our major client was having intermittant server problems - on the other side of the world. We could not reproduce it to save our lives, yet the server was crashing regularly. Oh yeah, it was a peak processing mission critical time there. Major stress. These guys are our bread and butter, and on top of everything else that was happening, having to fly off to fix a server wasn't really high on my list.

Would you believe that it turned out being a combination of a JDBC database driver bug (that only occurred in the most rare cases) and the wrong version of SQL Server being installed? Sometimes I want to laugh, and other times I want to strangle someone. But mostly I just feel drained.

"Hi. How are you?"

Casual greeting, or do you really want to know? Why does our society use these four simple words as a casual greeting? Do you have any idea how hard it is to choke out a "Good, and yourself?"? Oh, I know that you mean well. It's not your fault at all, but wow - everything has changed. Simply greeting people is enough to put my heart through a ringer. I'm not doing fine, but I'm not ready to talk about it either.

We sang "It is Well With my Soul" this morning. I wish I could sing along - but I can't. It is not well with my soul right now.

The End of the World (As We Know It)

Have you ever wondered what kind of sound is made when your world comes crashing down? Me neither - but I can certainly recognize the sound now.

We got a call from the doctor today. He was "on his way home" from the office, and "about 4 minutes away". Would it be ok if he "dropped by" to give us some test results? It's a good thing we keep parts of the house messy for occasions like this. We had 4 minutes of mad cleaning instead of 4 minutes of fear and dread.

We were expecting bad news. Doug had been having balance problems, and we suspected some sort of earish related bad news. Surgery maybe.

This was worse. Much worse.

After a preamble that I really didn't listen to, I picked up the words Muscular Dystrophy. I don't know much more than the name of it, but it sounds bad. That's when I heard the sound of the world crashing down. Everything I had planned for life was now turned upside down. My mind pretty much shut itself down on overload. My whole being went numb, and I began to shake like a leaf. THIS I was not prepared for. How can you be?

I'm thankful for a doctor that cares. I can't imagine going to his office and hearing this news. I can't imagine trying to drive home afterwards. I can't imagine much anymore.