The weekend’s over, & I’m back to work tomorrow. After the initial psychosis, the rest of the weekend was fairly uneventful. As of now, I feel somewhat resigned to whatever happens on Wed. I want to believe this one’s going to make it, but I know that I am also responsible for at least some degree of self-preservation. I keep telling myself that I’m doing everything I can… with the exception of the tiny little 15 days of oblivion before testing, I’ve been on top of my crap. If this one doesn’t make it, I tell myself we’ll just figure something else out.
But in reality, I’m terrified. Not only at the loss of the tiny being that is Z4, but also the proof that the low-dose aspirin/increased folic/progesterone life support regime didn’t work. If Z4 dies, the possibility of this particular treatment plan dies with him. And truthfully, I don’t know what’s next after this. I don’t. Bobby says that #1, we have to believe Z4 is alive until proven otherwise, & #2, if this ends badly, we have to trust our RE to help us figure out the next step. He’s right. I know he’s right.
So for now, I’m outwardly composed & internally taking a constant symptom inventory (& currently, there are few symptoms to inventory).
C’mon, Wednesday. Please, oh please let this one stick.