Appointment with neuro #2 was this morning and surgery–after an MRV this Monday–will be February 26. Right before my daughter turns 1 month old.
I wish I had something poignant or some revelation about how much better it makes me feel to have this on the books, but all I want to do is run away. With her, preferably. So, if you see a chubby dark haired woman running with a infant car seat along the side of the road, pick her up and offer her a drink. She could use it.
I’m freaking the fcuk out and I don’t know how the hell I’m supposed to make it another 2 weeks after hearing things like “skull bone graft” and “may have innervation.” I feel sick.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to vomit up my Valium.