So after all that drama and hooplah, I got a clean bill of health. CT scan is normal, mammogram normal. I am not dying, as I briefly thought ... and by briefly thought, I mean I had projected myself into the near future, where I surely had fatal lymphoma and my son would be raised by his father who would get everything I've ever worked for and would probably take my son up to the midwest where he would be surrounded by his fucked up paternal side of the family. And then he would become addicted to drugs and die a horrible death.
OK, so at least I know I'm not dying, but being in this "legal process" certainly feels like I am.
We had a wonderful vacation. I may write about it. I think I only received a text or email from son's father every 24 to 36 hours.
Our plane arrived back home a few minutes early yesterday, and no sooner than I'd stepped off the plane? I got a text from him. "I saw your flight arrived a few minutes early, so I expect you will be able to bring [the boy] to meet me by 6:30 p.m." FUCK. OFF.
I met him at 6:20.
I'm home less than 24 hours and I receive an email already this morning about some hearing in August, which my attorney wasn't even aware of because it was hot off her fax machine, which had yet to be checked. Opposing counsel could have phoned.
Anyway, I'm back, and all my fucked up symptoms, like increased perspiration and anxiety are in full effect. I swear, while vacationing in Florida, I had absolutely no symptoms.
This damn man may be the death of me ... since we've ruled out lymphoma.
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