It seems like the person who’s credited with the phrase “Home is where the heart is” was really good at putting the obvious into words.

After nearly two months, I am finally back home. I arrived in Dallas on Wednesday, GPS in hand so that I didn’t get lost. My apartment felt new, like I had just moved in.

I don’t want to bore anybody with the details, but nothing happened with appointments this week. I’m still waiting for a visit with the neuroophthalmologist and I’ll likely make one more day trip to Houston this week to pick up the new Ponatinib. Other than that, it’s just a waiting game.

In fact, UT Southwestern said that it would be approximately eight weeks until they processed all of the necessary paperwork to get me in for an appointment.

I have a better chance of scheduling tea time with Barack Obama. Hm, I wonder if he knows anything about the eyes. I may just do that (Hi, secret service).

Me and my brother’s apartment lease is up at the end of the month. With all of the things I need to do to assure a smooth transition to a new apartment, I was growing restless, anxious, and impatient with things while away from home. The last thing I need is to add the stress of moving to a dinner plate that is already overflowing with things. Which brings up a good topic; moving.

Katie and I have visited at least ten places in the past three days.

Ten.

It would be funny to see a time lapse of our faces from the first day we walked into an office to the last. It’s very possible that we now look like zombies.

I mean, I’m literally dragging my leg from a running injury I sustained one week ago. *sobs*

It’s raining here, so we walk into places looking dreary, somber, and wet. With my story, I truly expect Ty Pennington to walk through the door and, using his outside voice inside, tell us that we’re not getting an apartment, we’re getting a new home.

Ty, if you’re reading this, at least bring me a Hoveround. Please.

One Response

  1. Waiting to wait! I answer the phone on the second, third, or fourth ring when its from Houston. Protocol….okay so I didn’t qualify so now what? Another trial…okay….so I didn’t qualify! I understand protocol but I am volunteering. I am truly grateful for trials , for me and mostly for future patients. My cells mutate and….somehow they loop. They know the location on the chromosome now where do you place the stop sign.

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