Cautiously Hopeful

On Thursday the 20th, my father will have been in the hospital for a month.

It’s weird how the mind adapts to new routines. For the past month, I’ve been at the hospital nearly every day. The image of my father in a hospital bed with tons of wires attached to him is no longer shocking, it’s normal. The smell of the ICU is stuck in my nose.

My family and I have talked to more doctors and nurses than I can count. There are days when I can’t even remember what day it is.

The crazy thing is, it doesn’t look like this will be over anytime soon. My father is in critical condition, and is progressing very, very slowly. On Saturday, the doctors said it would be a “miracle” if he pulls through this. On Sunday, they seemed more optimistic. One doctor said that we should be “cautiously hopeful.” That all we can do is wait, and hope that he comes around.

So that’s what we’re doing: waiting and hoping.


On a completely unrelated note, I had an ultrasound yesterday.

In the middle of the test, the ultrasound tech actually asked, “this surgeon who did your biopsy last year, did he come highly recommended to you?”

Every doctor I’ve talked to seems completely baffled by what happened to me.

The ultrasound confirmed that the lump is still there- same size and everything. The doctor gave me two options:

I feel like I’m back in the exact same place as I was when I wrote this post. Since there’s nothing I can do about it, however, I chose the latter. This Friday, I will go in for the core needle biopsy. When I get the results from that, it’s likely that I’ll have to have another surgery.

At this point, even though I am scared about Friday, I am much more concerned with my father’s condition.

Please, please keep my father in your thoughts.

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March Confessions

Be warned: this is an incredibly personal post.

I turn 24 exactly two weeks from today.

The weekend after my birthday, I will be moving into the spare apartment in my parents’ house temporarily. My parents own a two-family house. My grandmother used to live in the apartment downstairs. After that, my brother, Adam, lived there for several years, followed by my other brother, David, and my now sister-in-law, Angela. Me living there at some point in my life is inevitable.

Don’t worry- Jeff and I are still together. We just need somewhere to store our stuff while Jeff helps his family out for a few months.

I am secretly excited to move back in with my mom since my father works nights. I see many chick flicks in my future.

I am also incredibly sad to be leaving my first apartment, but I know that this is what is best for us right now.

I am also really scared. I don’t deal with change well.

I am still not ready to talk about the reasons behind all this. Mainly because it’s not my story to tell. I promise that when I feel it’s appropriate and the time is right, I will share what happened with you. I’m used to sharing a lot on this blog, and that’s why I’ve needed this blogging break. If I went about posting like nothing happened, I’d feel like I was hiding my life from you, and I don’t want to do that. I want to be real, and honest in my posts. I hope you understand and respect that.

Speaking of sharing a lot on the blog, I still haven’t gone for my follow-up ultrasound. There are many reasons for this. But, perhaps, the biggest one is that I’m scared to go through it all again. Another reason is that I have yet to choose another doctor. I think that once I’m settled into my move, I’ll look into hospitals in downstate NY.

My breast is still sore from my surgery. Five months later, it still hurts to lift things, to stretch, and to hug…

On a lighter note, I have exactly six birthday celebrations planned. All of which include good food, good friends, wine, and, of course, cupcakes.

I’m sort of obsessed with my birthday.

And now for a few short, but just as meaningful confessions:

My jeans are tight.

Jillian Michaels has kicked my butt twice since Saturday.

I’ve eaten too much chocolate.

I spent money I don’t have on these heels in black.

I cry too easily.

In the past month, I’ve thought about not blogging anymore.

I decided I’d miss it (and you) too much.

The end.


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