We rushed home from Los Angeles to the Bay Area because Gracie's MRI was moved from Thursday to Tuesday. Emma had been screaming in pain on car rides at waking out of a sound sleep at night so I called her team at Stanford. They all agreed it was very worrisome and put us on an MRI cancellation list to be seen as soon as possible. We got home, I organized a hospital bag, slept for 6 hours then packed Gracie and Cora up in the car and headed to Stanford. Literally as I am walking
|Gracie waking up from her MRI|
Yesterday I was home and looked around...a mess of half packed and half unpacked on my floor. Laundry. Dishes. Empty fridge. Suddenly I was very mad. The trauma of the week flooded me in one swift motion while I drank my second cup of coffee staring blankly at a dirty sink of dishes. I was mad that people who should care and should ask say nothing. I was mad that I had spent 19 hours out of the last 36 in the car in traffic. I was mad that I do not have a maid or a nanny or a grandma to come help with this mess. I let the anger get the better of me and spent most of my day cleaning and pouting but mostly just hating my life.
|The nurse let Emma push the buttons|
Last thing I will say is this, if you are reading this and wondering if I am talking about you it is not too late. Pick up the phone, ask to speak to Emma and Gracie and ask them how they are feeling. Send a "get well card". Email us. Anything. To everyone who helped in anyway thank you, from the bottom of my heart, thank you. Kindness and generosity kept me going this week.