Seven days from today my mom and dad will be home from the Myeloma Institute at The University of Arkansas Medical School with a second opinion about her health and treatment recommendations.
Seven days from today, a nice, handsome man with a long freaky needle will stab me in the stomache to tell me if Wiggly is a boy or a girl and if the little one will be a healthy, screaming kid. (At least what they can screen for.)
Seven days from today my mom will begin to figure out what kind of battle she will fight for as long as she can fight it. One day at a time.
Roughly ten days after seven days from today, Husband and I will either be able to breathe a bit easier about Wiggly’s health and future, or be facing a whole other set of decisions.
At the risk of sounding like The Lion King, it has struck me what can happen in seven days. In my world there is the fight for life and the hope for new life. Not quite Hakuna Mata.
But, hey, G-d created the world in seven days. I’m just gettin’ stuck with a needle and goin’ straight home to eat ice cream.