One More Again...

I'm still dying. But I'm going through the motions. It's time to return to the college for my test.
I had just limped through Izzy's funeral, and didn't know it would be 19 years before I felt that hollow again.

It looks like it will be an uncomfortable battery of tests, but it must be done. On this journey, my 69 year old mama has chosen to be my chauffeur and it looks like an overnight stay. A modest hotel was chosen. I felt shame that day, as she carried the luggage by herself as people stared in disgust at a healthy looking young man that allowed her to do so. They had no idea of my boggled state of health.

There wasn't time to get settled in the room, my destiny awaited.

My first step on the curb of the hospital seemed to reach out to me in one of my most miserable falls ever. Followed by a swarm of nurses and such, "Are you okay? Don't move." I had fallen backwards on the hard sidewalk. I stared at the clear blue sky and was prepared to float up or down.. whichever was decided for me. But I was tenderly taken care of by the medical staff. I refused all attempts of emergency room treatment, because I just wanted this over with.

MRI, spinal tap, visual tests... I had no idea they were not testing but merely confirming their hunch. The tests seemed to take all day and I was physically spent and overwhelmed with fatigue.

We made it back to the hotel, but we were required a return to the hospital in the morning. I had become tired and extremely frustrated. I'm walking at this point, but only with the aid of two canes. This night was very vivid in my memory, as it was the first time I ever remember my mama crying.

I didn't see her, but I felt her sobbing, late at night. She was crying for me and I felt the sorrow fill the room. Till this day, I wish I could block that sound from my memory.

A 6 am wake up call is literally a 6am wake call - but my potential diagnosis had kept me awake the entire night. Just three more hours... let's see what they have to say.