Before they took me for the procedure, I downloaded every medical record I could find. I saved the May note, the emergency room visits, the reports of blackouts, and the recommendation Daniel had heard with his own ears. For months I had thought my only problem was getting doctors to find the right diagnosis. Now I realized I had another problem waiting in court: someone had already taken an incomplete medical story and used it to decide what kind of mother I was.
PART 3
The pacemaker left a small scar below my collarbone, but the strangest thing happened the morning after the procedure. I stood beside the hospital bed expecting the room to darken the way it always did, yet nothing happened. I took ten slow steps down the hallway without grabbing a wall or waiting for my hearing to fade. I started crying simply because I was standing upright and my body was finally staying with me.
