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  • Every week I sit down and watch my husband prepare my medication; laying out a syringe, needles, tubing, antiseptic wipes, my pump. I lay in bed, talking to my two girls, helping them prepare their stuffed animals too. We get them blankets - the girls wear their stethoscopes sometimes. The animals are sick, they tell me and I watch them cringe a bit as they use fake syringes to give the animals shots.

    Then its my turn. Lily gets on one side of me and Mia the other and they hold my hands. My husband tries to maneuver around them to get the needles in position.

    "Don't hit the scars." I have to remind him.

    The needles are small but they still pinch. Sometimes they hit a tough part of my stomach and I bite my lip to keep myself from shrieking in front of the kids. It doesn't usually take long before they are in my skin and the pump is running and I am laying back, with my girls, watching a show on TV.

    In the beginning when I got diagnosed with CVID - this genetic immune deficiency that requires me to inject antibodies into my skin each week - I was really scared. I was so sick all the time, I just wanted to get better. But finding out what was wrong was a lot to take. I'd be doing this treatment forever. I didn't know how to process that.

    But lately, its felt more like a blessing than anything else. Those nights when I settle in to prepare for my treatment, I get a chance to reflect - really reflect - on the goodness of my life. I get to drink it in, sit with it, stay for a moment caught between something terrifying and something truly beautiful. I get to be reminded of how fortunate I am to be here - to have this beautiful, funny, crazy family. I get to appreciate my passion for my work - my love for driving, music, MSNBC, Law & Order, cheesecake, coffee. I get this hour of true appreciation for all that I have been blessed with and while it hurts sometimes getting started...its always worth it in the end.
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