…And we got it, an appointment with the Mayo Clinic to get my husband a second opinion.

According to the Mayo call center they had attempted to return his request on the 11th and left a message, but I don’t know where this supposed voicemail could be. Because it is certainly not with us. (That’s just my frustration for this whole thing showing.) Regardless we have it in hand.

I am nervous, mildly excited, and a little hopeful. The actual appointment date is on the 12th and I have this ridiculous notion that whenever I come across this number, good things are in store. This number has followed me my entire life and… fuck I’m starting to tear up. It’s stupid to think like this. I know it’s a human reaction to hope when faced with the most dire of circumstances. However I have to be realistic. Seeing his progression, even since we found out, is upsetting. I am certain the intial ALS diagnosis is correct, but that’s also my pessimism rearing it’s ugly head. I can’t let myself be optimistic.

I’m excited because we’re making this a pseudo vacation. We’re going to take our time getting up there, stopping wherever we will on the way. And then when all the appointments are over, the plan is to take a quick trip over to Chicago. Neither of us has been there before, and there is no time like the present right?

Live for today, kids. You never know what life will throw at you.