Through the prelims

Today we got through the prelims : blood work, x-rays, EKG. It was over fast and wonderfully uneventful.

The family all made it in. I have a terrific family. I have to fight my desire to curl up in a tight ball around my girl and just be alone. At times all the attention is simply exhausting, I feel like a terrible host at the worst theme party ever. The tiniest things - making beds, getting drinks, dealing with food or such overwhelm me.

But I do need my support system because the wind blows hard.

Tomorrow we go in. Sierra says she's not scared, has her courage at the ready. I'm not scared either either, just a little worn around the edges.

Maybe more than the edges.

Mighty Heart the night before

It's raining, that long draping curtain of rain that lays over the sky in a billowing arc, the horizon disappearing in the folds of gray.

Seems like perfect weather for this night, seems each time we've had a big medical procedure it's rained. I appreciate the emotional symmetry of rain, it allows me to sink into thought. A wide blue sky would seem like a contradiction, or worse, maybe like what was happening here was being ignored.

Silly to see the world this way. And yet the rain falls, the clouds bow their heads and reminds me we are all in this together.

Our bags are packed, we're ready to go, as the song goes. Sierra is in good spirits, Adam and I are weary, Mireya is excited with all the company.

I'm just tired. I'm looking forward to a nice long sleep. On Friday.

I'll be updating here. Thanks for thinking of us.

Sierra In Hospital Next Week

Everything is set. We go in for X-rays and such on Tuesday, spend the night at the Ronald McDonald House (every time I buy french fries at McDonalds I remember the first time we stayed at the House in San Antonio). Wednesday we head over to the hospital.

Sierra is late in the line up and isn't allowed to eat from midnight on. She'll be there over night.

Family is all coming in, over a dozen people will be there, which is crazy, because it's not like this is the Big Thing, if the Big Thing even happens.

But I'm very glad they are all coming anyway.

I know, I know. This procedure isn't big or dangerous, yet I feel raw anyway. Inside her chest is the mystery that they will probe, then reveal what lies ahead for her, for us.

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On the positive side of things, Sierra's vertigo is improving and the doctor has said not to worry about any of the scarier things often linked to severe vertigo.

"It will resolve," he said to me, looking me in the eyes in that way doctors do when they are both emphatic and comforting.

Resolve. Yes, I thought. Everything does, in the end, resolve.