Are we ever truely hopeless? Does hope ever die?
There have been many moments in my life that I have felt that way. I have been going along thinking what is the point. There is no hope.
Yet, with every new cycle, with every late period, with every little twinge in this huge o'l belly of mine... I grab onto this string that gets smaller with every passing day. Grabbing that string does nothing for me in the end but for some reason I can't stop reaching for that tiny piece of string.
This is where I sit... holding on to this tiny frayed string, logically knowing that everything that my body is doing is related to this medicine, but yet I can't let go. I can't let go of the idea that maybe all it took was one dr who totally believed that this medicine would make my body work the way it should. Logically I know that I haven't been on the med long enough to work things out. Yet, I can't let go. We have been trying since September of 2003 and yet all I want right now is for this tiny frayed bit of hope to turn into a wonderful little living, breathing, long awaited for 35th birthday present.
This, this is why I want AF to show before the dr appointment on Friday. I don't want her to further this little frayed string of hope needlessly. It is painful enough without the dr's help.