A letter of...confusion

Dear Alice-

So, your other letter from yesterday regarding my trip to Connecticut was confusing. Haven't I told you all the story of my diagnosis? How it has been so long with so few answers? Of all the prosecution I got when I was in elementary/middle/high school? I haven't??? Honestly? Seems weird. Okay, it's probably good that I write this down for someone so here goes.

I was a pretty active kid, still as dramatic as I am now, but it was more relevant then because I was so desperately trying to keep up it wasn't even funny. By the time I was eight, I had tried some sports, swam a lot, liked being outside, you know the drill. However, that summer my ma, you know ma....she noticed that I had a sore on my leg and it wouldn't go away. That was the beginning of the end as far as I remember it. Why do you ask?

That's when what I call the parade of doctors began. I guess see, when you have a diagnosis like I do, it's an anomaly. It's a curiousity. Something interesting to look at, something interesting to teach, and something interesting to treat. Looking back on it now as a scientist, I wish they would have given me credit for all those papers, I mean think about how large my CV would be now! No worries...ever!!! With that being said, I went from Georgetown to Hopkins, back to Georgetown, back to DC, it was like a never ending circle. I'd like to say that ma and I got close back then, but close was a guarded thing for a mom like mine. You know how she is, it's always been like that, holding things in not saying stuff. But, like I said, with that being said, I don't quite know if I could have handled that anyway.

Well, things progressed I got worse, I got better, I got worse I got better, and now...now...now that things are FINALLY going good, I start getting worse again. I mean cmon!! I had been working so hard in physical therapy, you remember me SWEARING you to secrecy about that...I was SOO close. I had the hands free crutch oh man it was so cool you had to have seen it. There wasn't a dry eye in the place A when I was walking down the aisle! I missed you terribly, and had a tear in my eye because I wanted you there so bad. I understand family, and I feel bad that S's brother is sick...I hope things turn out okay there. You really should have seen it. I was well on my way to the orthotic, the money...or lack there of hit and well, here we are. The sores hit too. I told you about that crazy doctor, I know I did. What a wacko. The only reason why I continue to see him is because I firmly believe that he might be the end of the road.

So, now the recoup process starts. The ending of this graduate school career (can't say that isn't coming soon enough) and trying to come to terms with doing half-ass science, as well as removing in with the hubby, and recovering, for real this time. That was what Connecticut was supposed to be about. Too bad. It was too bad that doctors get caught up in the crazy BS that the rest of us do in our daily lives. I wish medicine wasn't such a business, but I don't like health care reform either, but if you think this letter is bad girl I could go on and on and on when it comes to that stuff. The long of the short is that the doctor is moving again, as if moving to Connecticut wasn't bad enough, now he's moving to NYC. I stared him straight in the eye and was like, "Okay when do we leave?" I'm tired of taking no for an answer, but there's such a fine line between that and being totalled and schlepping all through the country to hear it. It's not worth it, regardless of what hubby says or not. He's like..."Well, it'll be good when we move." That's crap. I'm coming back here for work when we move. Period.

*ugh* Too much time, too much to tell.

Till then,

I remain your faithful servant-

Me