Five years of toeing the edge has changed me.

Of looking into that abyss, only to be yanked back..and then shoved right to the brink again has worn down my soul.

You know it’s bad when you look a doctor dead in the eye and say:

“I’m going to have a nervous breakdown…”

And then you DO.

For four years we rode the see saw of “Is it CF? Is it not?” with Angel.

Then came the hospital stay. The genetic test.

All answers pointed to yes.

Then along comes Brandon.  All answers leaned in the general direction of no, but then bounced right into the yes area with 2 ‘final’ tests.

The yo-yo was killing us. After four years of ‘kinda’ with Angel we were sure that Brandon would provide us with the clear cut answers.

We were wrong.

Six more months of a yo yo and then…

Diagnosis.

Confirmed CF.

But.

Oh, the but’s.

But.

“But we can pull the diagnosis as diagnostic tools for CF develop.”

But.

“But there’s one more test.”

But.

I’m tired of tests.

Of questions.

But.

“It’s the new ‘gold standard’ test.”

But.

“It’s in testing stages.”

He should do it.

So he did.

Against my judgment.

And the yo-yo springs up again.

The test was negative for CF.

“But it’s just a small piece of the puzzle.”

They say.

“But his diagnosis may remain.”

They say.

“But this test. It shows him normal.”

And I break down.

I am tired.

The string of the yo-yo has broken.

I see the depths of another depressed funk right at the edge of my vision.

All I’ve ever wanted was answers.

One.

Clear cut.

No more questions.

One.

Without a ‘but’.

One.

Without more tests.

One.

Without answers how can we accept our truths?

Without answers how can we adjust?

How can we Redefine Perfect?

I feel like I’m falling off the edge into that abyss.

I don’t like it.

Part of me wants to never ever see another doctor.

Run another test.

I want solid ground.

So that I can find my footing.

Move on and live for a change.

I don’t handle questions well.

Answers are how I survive.

Give me answers.

Solid ground.