Hope is dangerous

I have yet another doctors appointment this Friday (just had one Monday). This time, it is not to “fix me” or treat symptoms, or placate me. This time, at my doctor’s suggestion (when I asked about a specialist), we will sit down with my list of symptoms, my list of theories on what I might have and why, and figure out WHAT specialist I should go to.

Thing is? I KNOW it is going to take MONTHS to get into a specialist, and he wants to send me to one over in Kelowna (which means an over night stay), But I will let him know I am willing to go to Vancouver, or even Edmonton or Calgary, over night is over night, 4 hour or 9 hour drive, either way it’s not a lot of difference. And if a longer drive means a better doctor, or shorter wait times? Then let’s do it.

Knowing that it could be months to get in, I am strangely optimistic about this appointment. I have no clue why? I did warn the doctor that I my list includes ALL symptoms, even non stomach related. After all, maybe, just maybe some of them are connected in some weird way.

After all these years of different health problems, and being married, and having a kid (and a demon spawn that has left a permanent scar in this family), you would THINK I would have learned how to control and suppress hope. And in many ways and thinks, I have. But, it’s weird. I can’t seem to stomp out this spark. Sort of annoying really.

It’s like a house fly that is super smart and knows how to escape just as you are about to crush it. But comes right back as soon as you let your guard down.


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