The first real punch in the gut.
The first sense that I might not be well came hard and fast and knocked me to my knees. there had been other diagnoses, but nothing that I had given much thought to. But this one, this diagnosis, left me sitting on the bathroom floor, curled up into the corner by the bathtub. My hands cradled my head, elbows on my thighs, crying so hard that breathing seemed to momentarily stop. My heart broken beyond what I thought could ever be repaired. Thinking that the life I wanted would never be granted to me. grieving for what wouldn’t be, couldn’t be. I’d experienced major surgeries, broken bones, and took them in stride, just a part of life. But this was not supposed to be a part of my life.