(And also positive that my positive pregnancy test is in fact false, making it a negative.)
Without sharing all the TMI details I reviewed with the nurse who drew my blood today, she confirmed that it would be very unlikely / actually miraculous if I was in fact pregnant given all the reasons I think I must not be.
But that didn’t stop me from delivering another positive score!
We are waiting for the quantitative value, which requires the sample to be sent to another lab for analysis. But all parties agree that the value is likely to stay consistent: which means that tomorrow’s ablation will almost certainly be preceded by an ultrasound to rule out the possibility that I am with child.
So, mostly, I am not having the weekend I expected to have. I was thinking more like I might have time for a pedicure? A nice walk through Central Park?
Instead, I’m using the opportunity to make “eating for two” jokes and suggesting to Per that I need him to bring me ice cream and pickles.
I’m struck by two things as I ponder this situation:
First, it’s amazing how many people have reached out hoping / believing I am in fact pregnant. I have decided to interpret that as a belief in miracles, and who am I to suggest they don’t happen?!
Second, this brings back memories of the reiki practitioner who visualized a “gray baby” in my abdomen when she was sending me healing energy. Maybe it’s time to usher this baby out of my body already?!
Tonight, around 9 pm CT, I will start to visualize healing stars flowing into my body and toward that last spot on my liver - and I’ll try to keep going until 11 or 12 pm, with a few breaks for late night sustenance to ward off post-midnight hangry. Please join me if you care to, for a few minutes or as long as you like. Energy follows intent, says my therapist; and with all that you are sending in my direction, I feel ready to birth a miracle.
“Miracles happen all the time; what makes you think you don’t deserve one?” asked Sandro, the famous photographer Per’s friend Nik arranged to take our family portrait just a week after my diagnosis.
At the time, I was certain that if he knew me better, he would know I did not actually deserve one.
But almost four years into my journey, I believe we all do. And so, I’m ready for one: in whatever form it ultimately takes.