Okay, it's not official yet, but I'm 99.9% I self diagnosed correctly and Henry, the pain and lump in my pelvis, is truly what's going on. I went to an emergency care and they found nothing. A week later, this has to be the 'case' that they gave me.
And it's painful. It's awkward. It's annoying. And it's not going away.
At 11 a.m., I hope to know what is actually going on and what the medical world can do about it.
I've realized from the last two weeks how much exercise, movement, physical routine, and energy mean to me. In some ways, it is synonymous of the person I am, and now that the pace has totally been thrown a monkey wrench, I feel like my universe is inside out and backwards. I can't think straight. I'm confused about what needs to get done and how. I have new angst and anxiety. And I'm stressing in ways I've never know possible.
All because of Henry. So, nieces and nephews. This is what your uncle has (he thinks). By the end of the day I hope to know more about this guy and what we can do to put him back in his place.
I'm hoping, too, that a procedure can be scheduled right away. Washington was cancelled. Toronto was cancelled. I really don't want to cancel classes or to fall behind in my work.
Existential crisis? It is true. We are only as strong as our bodies and when they shut down, everything we know about ourselves as human beings shifts. I'm unsure who I can be when I'm not 110% hyperactive.
This too shall pass. This too shall pass. This too shall pass.
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