I love my birthday. I always have. There is a running joke in our family that my birthday is the “Month of Katie.” I have always loved to prolong my birthday well into the month of November. I am not sure why I love it so much. I just do. So this year, with Brad and my family knowing full well that I love my birthday, they kept asking me what I wanted for my birthday, what I wanted to do for it, yadda, yadda, yadda…
Because I wasn’t doing so hot at that time, I was being a major grump about it. I kept saying, “I don’t want to do anything.” Or “I’m not celebrating 29 until I have a diagnosis.” or “I just want to skip it.”
So I just have to tell this story because it gets me teary-eyed every time.
Last week when Brad and I were on the road to Cleveland to go for my autonomic nervous system testing, my Mom called to see how my day was going. She and my Dad had been in Philly visiting Kristen, Jake, and the beautiful Cecilia Jane. They were headed to BWI airport and we both still had a couple hours left to be in the car. At the moment she called I was struggling. My back and head hurt, I was nervous, and I was experiencing the anxiety that a trip to Cleveland Clinic usually brings. I was trying like heck to hold it together. Sensing that I was near a meltdown, my Mom went into her pep talk, pick my spirits up, cheerleader mode.