I nod, though my heart sinks at the thought of more poking and prodding.
The tests are routine, yet each one is a reminder of the fragility I live with.
Blood drawn, pressures checked, weights measured.
With each step, I feel the familiar vulnerability, the sense of exposure.
As she finishes, the specialist looks at me with a sincerity that catches me off guard.
“We’ll figure this out together,” she assures, her words a promise I want to believe.
It’s a small comfort, a glimmer of hope in a journey that often feels endless.
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