Testing, Testing…

So we’re into the next cycle. On day three of my cycle, I was supposed to go have blood drawn for my FSH test, to see whether my follicle-stimulating hormones are acting like they’re supposed to. Of course, day one was Friday, which makes day three Sunday, when the labs are not open. I called my GYN’s office, and was shocked to hear Dr. Kodack herself get on the phone to talk me through it. Go first thing Monday morning. Don’t worry about it. Drink lots of water so your veins will be amenable to being jabbed with a needle.

So this morning at 7:07 I walked through the doors of the Clinical Pathology Labs branch at my local little hospital, and 20 minutes later walked out with a big ouchy bandaid on my arm (the worst jabber I’ve ever had in a lab tech, I have a great vein for bloodwork in my right arm and no need to stab it like that!).
This evening, with a nickel-sized bruised in the crook of my arm, I read this blog entry from Pablo’s parents. Pablo Castelaz is the little boy who died of Wilms’ tumor this summer, the same disease that attacked my best friend Pam’s sweet Caitlin. Between reading about Pablo and hanging out with Caitlin, I spent the month of June being swayed inexorably, inevitably, down this path that I’m now on. The love of these parents for their beautiful children. The threat of loss.
The pain of not having.
The beauty of having had.
This is Pablo’s dad Jeff, writing today’s blog entry, today, another day without Pablo, but with Pablo firmly in his heart. How could I know about Pablo, about Caitlin, and not try to bring some of that love into the world? How could I not want such a child for myself?

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