The Day After

In the spirit of full disclosure, I am out of my mind today. I'm not sure I slept at all last night; nausea and Kleenex are my constant companions. I can't seem to get my mind around this unwelcome news and what it might mean for him. He's so little, and my heart breaks at the mere thought of him suffering. I'm grieving without even knowing what to grieve.

I called my doctor this afternoon to tell him he'll be seeing Micah, instead of me, at my appointment on Monday. I've gone to him for three and a half years, and he has helped me immensely, so taking Micah to him seems like a logical first step. The GI doctor I went to after my diagnosis gave me no hope, and the pharmaceutical drug "treatment" wasn't successful. That's when I found Dr. R. He is an M.D., but he practices a unique blend of complementary medicine, including homeopathy. He's particularly skilled at treating complex health issues, including autoimmune disorders like mine, and now Micah's. I bawled my way through the conversation. But in his gentle wisdom, he reminded me of how well I'm doing and that he's confident he can help Micah too. It all just feels so unfair today. Where is my faith and trust in God? I feel like a stranded sailor, floating on a midnight ocean toward nothingness.

Many people have asked what they can do for us. Maybe if I can ever 1) stop crying and 2) clear my head, I'll be able to think of something. I'd take heavy sedation for a decade or so, if anyone can make that happen.

The smell-or even the thought-of food turns my stomach, and the only thing that sounds good tonight is ice cream. All of us--except Micah, ironically--are down in the dumps, so the whole family readily concurred with my craving. We ditched dinner and went out for ice cream. Actually it was frozen custard: sinfully delicious, terribly fattening, and ridiculously expensive. But we did it anyway. There's probably no doctor or counselor anywhere who would admit that chocolate custard blended with raspberries and topped with hot fudge facilitates emotional healing. But you'll never convince me.