19

Today marks 19 years in remission for me. Tomorrow is our first consultation at the fertility clinic. It’s kind of a big week.

We are scheduled to meet with the doctor, the shrink, the nurse practitioner, the financial advisor and the social worker. The whole nine yards. I took today off work just to review paperwork. Are we really going to do this? As of right now, I’m still thinking yes.

Filling out medical history forms shouldn’t be emotionally draining. But it is. Because no matter how well I feel now I am forced to recount in great detail a time when I didn’t.

If you responded yes to any of the above questions, please detail the event, the doctors and hospital involved and year in which they took place.

If you, or a member of your immediate family, has a history of any of the following illnesses or symptoms, please turn to side two and complete the additional questions.

And there’s the left hook of the one-two punch. I am adopted. So whenever faced with these questions, I have to write a big “N/A” or draw in an asterisk and try to fit in tiny letters somewhere on the already crowded form an explanation of why I have no idea whether or not breast cancer or heart disease runs in my family because I don’t know who my family is.

Please don’t tell me that the people that raised me are my family and the rest is irrelevant. I’m in no state to hear that. That was last week’s drama. That can be another post.

Today, the paperwork is finished, all of the remaining credit cards have been dredged out of drawers, dusted off, credit limits checked and hubby and I have given ourselves the fifteenth pep talk of the week.

Now, I want to refocus my energy on being physically and mentally prepared for the days to come. These are exciting times.

Today is my anniversary. Today I feel invincible.