Loose emotions, on the run.

Getting news from the doctor *other than* what I had been used to hearing for years now:

"we know you are in pain... we don't understand pain... we're not sure your pain is all from the joint (even though I said it most certainly is), there isn't much we can do for you..."

"Double Bursitis. Lots of physical therapy, cortisone shots".

This new syndrome, the tremendous confidence Dr. Rath had telling me about it; it all really excited me. I couldn't believe that someone is offering a whole new perspective, and a promising treatment! There is a name for this disease, and there is a cure! Woo-hoo!

I wasn't even ten feet out of the familiar ward (where I have spend many, many days and nights), when I called Robert with the exciting news. He was at the time on the phone with our good friend, so he put me on speaker so that friend could hear, too.

I was so excited!! I said "great news!!" Robert was completely caught up in the excitement with me. "He said that I have this disease which I can't pronounce, and the he can fix it!!!" "OK, It means more surgery, but then I have a chance at the pain going away, and no more pain medicines!!!"
We were giddy with the possibility, the new chance. Our friend on the other phone was right there with us. It was just good vibes everywhere.

Hard to believe that was just yesterday. Wow, just yesterday I was happy with the news of brand new hope, possibility. Just *yesterday*.

Today  I  went  into  a  depression.

The roller coaster.
I want to embrace it as all part of the process, but in my prayers? I pray for only middle ground, with a few ups, and a few dips.
The roller coaster is back.
I put on my seat belt. I invite you to, also.

I am so scared. Am I crazy to agree to go under the knife again????
Seventh time in four and a half years?!
I looked back at a blog, specifically looking for time periods when I knew surgery was close.

The year was 2009. The post that caught me was written on the eve of going in for the PVNS surgery; the one which ultimately didn't happen.
I was scared of dying, and wrote good-bye brachot to my family.

Please re-read it here? ...for me. 

I want to bring you into my heart so you can start carrying me through my fears.

I *know* how much hip surgery hurts. I've been through it before. This time, it'll be both hips at once. Filing down bone, removing damaged tissue, repairing torn cartilage.
New mantra: getting off Fentanyl... getting off Fentanyl...

I want my Mommy. I want to hop on a plane and feel safe curled up in her bed with her.

MM- when you said you wish we lived closer, I yearned for that, too. You are my dear friend, and you are a beautiful, talented mother. Want a job for a week here with us?

I want to go to one of those healing-type hotels where there is a doctor if you need one. They have spas, and only healthy, beautiful food. I'd stay there for a week after surgery. Anyone know of such a place?
Who will take care of my kids?
(Robert mentioned calling an agency for a nanny for a month. We'll plan on that.)

My daughter has her hopes and dreams set on me being able to bike ride with her. She *loves* to ride, but can't ride alone yet. She's nine, and we live in a city. Her brothers aren't interested in hanging out with her much, and Aba works so much. She asked me if I'll be able to ride a bike with her. I said I really really hope so.

My youngest son... he's six. He asked me if this surgery means

that I can finally have another baby.

Robert and I looked at each other...

Poignant. P a i n f u l.

I'll set my sights on bike riding.