Relocating to the USA for a few months

I am sitting in Oregon on one of the most gorgeous days I've seen in six months. Blue skies, crisp air, warm sun, green all around. The boys and grandparent's are at a park, my mom is sleeping off jet-lag, Asha is napping, and I am here alone in my thoughts. Trying to slow down the merry-go-round which hasn't slowed down in two months. Trying to breath in our new normal. Our surroundings. Anticipating unknowns and knowing we are okay. And so am I.

After assessing our health, my husband and I made a decision to relocate our family for a few months. To recoup and gain the ground which is moving nonstop under our feet. It was a choice and a difficult one because relocating to America is no small task. The day before boarding the plane was absolutely insane but we did it. I traveled across the world in a wheelchair, accessing its use at every airport from India, to Germany to the USA. It was great--we got to cut in front of all the lines! I only had to take two Vicodin the entire trip and the level of pain I am now experiencing is more of an ache than anything (that is, when nothing is touching the open wound).

Fast forward to 24 hours after arriving in the USA. A 6-hour long visit to the hospital which included an MRI, X-Ray, injections, blood work and consultation between a doctor of infectious diseases and a surgeon have resulted in another surgery scheduled for Tuesday. The MRI reveals "suspicious" material in my leg that the surgeon wants a biopsy of. By Tuesday, we will have some answers.

But hey, today's Mothers Day. Ben got me flowers that I picked out (lovely!) and a card, and some time to think and ponder and wonder and soak in.. soak in our new normal. Is this our new normal? All this hospital stuff, medication and medical investigations... I keep thinking it's going to end. But it's not. It keeps dragging on. Maybe this is our new normal. I guess that's a good place to begin. Admitting this possibility.