One. More. Hurdle.

I thought we were there. I truly did. I thought all we were waiting for was the round table's final stamp of approval. That's the weekly meeting on Friday afternoons of everyone at the nephrologist's office when current cases are discussed and debated and next steps figured out. 

I figured that last week's positive results meant we were hopefully, finally, in the home stretch. 

Nope. 

Not. Quite. There. 

Yesterday my brother reminded me there's still one more round of blood tests he has to pass, making sure the infection is completely gone from his system. That happens early next week. And so, I'm assuming we won't come up for discussion until a week from Friday. And, the way things seem to work, we won't hear anything until the week after that. Which is after my HIV and hepatitis tests are scheduled for. Looking at my calendar, we'd most likely get the green light the day we've got pre-surgery testing. That is, if anyone gives us an official go-ahead. For the past six months, nothing like that's happened.


I don't have any of those dates on my calendar. I'm keeping those times loosely open, but not putting anything in writing. 


What I am doing is getting quiet. Withdrawing. 


Shutting down.


I've found—now that I'm perhaps actually approaching the surgery for the 5th time—that's what I do. 


I close off. Wall off. 


Stop talking. Stop thinking. 


Just about all I can do is float through the days and hope I'm getting to all I need to.


Only right now I can't do that. This week is cram-packed. I run a PTA meeting tomorrow night, the board election on Thursday at the first night of Iz's play. She's got her awards ceremony at the Met on Friday afternoon (!), with second night's performance directly afterwards. Jon's heading out of town so I'm designated parent at Jack's little league game on Saturday, practice on Sunday and at Iz's first high school tour on Monday. 


Before then I have to order planners and t-shirts and folders for middle school orientation. Get play programs from the printer. Wrap Jon's birthday gifts and get a cake. On top of the usual—pay bills, do laundry, park the car, food shop. Oh, and do all this with cramps that have me doubled around a hot water bottle at the moment.


All this busyness is almost a welcome distraction.


Almost.