stubborn.

Eventful. Sometimes, I wish life wasn't as eventful as it always is. It would be easier to keep up with.

Wednesday, I drove myself up to Prescott and back for my chiropractic visit. It had to be one of the most intense things I have done in months, on my own. You know you're in trouble when Doctor Benson, the never serious miracle worker who has only looked concerned at you once before, looks at you funny and tells you: "Take it easy, hon. Have a safe drive." But I made it, both ways, without incident. A blessing in and of itself. Not being able to walk well the rest of the day made for an intriguing situation at home, but it was to be expected.

My grandparents visited this weekend, too. Unexpected? You betta believe it. I'm still not sure what their excuse was for visiting, but it seemed to me that they wanted to see how fast I could walk, how bad it really was. We went out to dinner with the grandparents and the uncle's fam, Friday night. Such a pity case. That side of my family has never really made an effort to talk to me about anything but the situation in which we are all stuck, but it seemed they went out of their way to make me smile. I must have looked horrible, but dang, how I wish I wasn't the object of their pity. Anyways, the result of that particular visit with my grandparents was a phone call to my dad the day they left. They want me to move to California with them, to be put on their payroll and medical insurance, and see the doctors at Kaiser Permanente, the hospital I was born at.

Shock? an infinite amount. The most prevailing thought that entered my mind: what difference would it make? I haven't made enough progress in the month that I have been home. I know it, my parents know it. I am feeling less pain, on a regular basis, but I can't do anything, and that's not okay with me. My parents are finally making an MRI a priority, so I should have one soon. I pray that I do. After which, we will see a specialist, my orthopedic surgeon, and whatever other doctor can help me on the way. This doesn't mean that surgery is next, but it means we sure as hell are going to figure this out. Insert grandparents: what difference would it make? Would I still be able to see a chiropractor who practices the NUCA technique that I love so much from Doctor Benson? probably not. But medical care, the specialist and orthopedic surgeon and MRI, are probably standard. The only difference I could discern was that of location: with my mom and immediate family, or with my two grandparents.

I'm still not sure what's going to happen next, and it kills me. All of the finances for next semester are covered, I got every class I needed, and while we still don't know what will happen, at this rate I will not be in Provo in January. I keep praying, I keep hoping, and I keep working.

I will do everything it takes to get back. Back to Provo, back to school, back to ME.

You can bet on it.