Keep Swimming… Just Keep Swimming

This one is a favorite of a dear internet friend :-)
This one is a favorite of a dear internet friend ūüôā

This image has been on my mind all week. ¬†Truth be told there is an awful lot on my mind, ¬†and I apologize that most of it is likely to come out jumbled. ¬†When I don’t get to the computer regularly there is all this stream of consciousness stuff…

invisible illness 4 dumptruck

My girl feels cruddy. ¬†And I know, “its a big surgery,” and “it takes time to even things out.” ¬†But it really stinks. ¬†Her thyroid numbers are way out of whack. ¬†The endocrinologist is absent… most of the time, and even if he couldn’t answer my questions, I’d like to be able to ask them. ¬†If my thyroid numbers were as wacky as hers you’d be scraping me off the floor. ¬†Here comes the crazy mom – trying to restrain myself for one more blood work cycle before I fire him too. ¬†Good thing I live in a big city. ¬†I might well run out of doctors otherwise.

It is so hard to watch her  Рfeeling betrayed by her own body.

She is bright.  And kind.  And super rational.  She gets the whole idea that people have it worse.  She is grounded.

But sometimes she is 10. ¬†And she doesn’t understand why she can’t keep up. ¬†Cognitively she can dance. ¬†But physically…

She has to decide on a Friday if we are busy on Saturday morning. ¬†This way she knows if she can play gym. ¬†She gets through the gym period, and often has the time of her life… but we have to block out hours on Saturday to recover. ¬†She played last week. ¬†She had the time of her life. ¬†Good thing the school staff doesn’t have to watch her get out of bed on Saturday.

And running. ¬†How she LOVES to run. ¬†And she’s fast. ¬†But she can’t. ¬†Not for long anyway. ¬†Tendonitis, inflammation. ¬†And forget it this week as we TRIED to lower the Celebrex.

Never mind the swimming.  She belongs to a team that practices 4 times a week.  On a good week we get there twice.  Not for lack of trying, but exhaustion gets in the way.  It is CYO season now, so she is with a more recreational team too.  Some fun times.  But she wants to be faster.  And she could be.  But her body betrays her.  And it makes her angry.

And now the headache. ¬†The migraine ¬†returned 2 days ago despite the recent medication increase. ¬†She is just so very tired. ¬†The neurologist called me tonight. ¬†Increase the Celebrex. ¬†See if that helps. ¬†So much for less medicine. ¬†Let’s pray for relief.

Hope-can-grow-from-the-soil-of-illness

I think alot about the others. ¬†I think about the other’s with RARE Diseases. ¬†I think about the ones less fortunate than us.

I also think about the other’s with Cowden’s Syndrome. ¬†I have never met them – any of them except my own girl. ¬†But, we “know” quite a few. ¬†There are some I keep in touch with on an individual basis, a few Meghan corresponds with, and the bulk of them come from a Facebook group for Cowden’s sufferers. ¬†We share experiences and ideas, and successes and disappointments. ¬†We toss things out to each other before the rest of the world. ¬†We speak safely to people who “get it.” ¬†And although even among us our symptoms vary widely, and I believe a lack of research keeps us from being sure what is Cowden’s related, they are my best support.

I often go to bed and wake worried about these people I’ve never met. ¬†I think about their physical struggles, and their family struggles. ¬†I pray for them when they have tests, and surgeries, and they do the same for us. ¬†People could argue they aren’t “real” friends. ¬†I would have to disagree. ¬†They give me hope.

I

power-of-persistence

Then there are days like yesterday, when you arrive at home after 14 hours at work to find a package on the counter. ¬†And inside the package are jeans for Meghan and I. ¬†Carefully sewn on each rear pocket is the denim ribbon symbol. ¬†Also in the package was a bag “Hope, It’s in our Genes.” ¬†Yep. ¬†It sure is. ¬†A friend of my sister’s. ¬†Inspired my some crazy words she’s read here. ¬†Go figure. ¬†Grateful.

Make-The-Best-Of-Everything

And there are the events coming up. ¬†The fifth grade events. ¬†The ones where she will try her best to fit in. ¬†The ones where her PTA has carefully worked behind the scenes to help her feel “normal” as they serve her dinner at the Father Daughter Dance, and the Fifth Grade Dance. ¬†The trip that someone will have to come to – because there won’t be any safe food there, and the growing realization that so much socialization in life revolves around food. ¬†Just another way to feel different. ¬†But she plugs along. ¬†Keeps that smile. ¬†stays focused on the good as best she can. ¬†Because she is acutely aware that there is a lot of good. ¬†And painfully aware that things are fleeting.

running away

We miss my father. ¬†It’s only been a few months, but every day seems to contain a bill, or a banking issue, or a quest to sort through the photos left behind so I can copy them for my siblings and get about the business of sharing them with the world. ¬†There is a glitch in each direction. ¬†No major problems. ¬†Always just a series of minor ones. ¬†He may not have been always around, but the time he was was powerful. ¬†Maybe I keep myself too busy. Maybe I worry about tasks insignificant to others. ¬†But I do, we do what we can to keep his memory alive. ¬†We talk about reality, and we keep our most special missions close to our hearts.

Life's not fair

There should be sunshine and roses. ¬†But there isn’t. ¬†Well maybe there is… if we look hard enough. ¬†All I seem to hear are stories of tragedy, heartache and pain. ¬†In my own family, and in general conversation there are serious illnesses, untimely death, suffering, pain, and sadness. ¬†I don’t profess to know the grand plan. ¬†Not for a moment. ¬†And I am sure its better that way. ¬† ¬†I have only learned to find the blessings I can in whatever I can, as frequently as I can. ¬†That is what keeps me sane.

I am far from perfect at this. ¬†FAR from perfect. ¬†But I – like all of us, am a work in progress. ¬†So as the days sometimes seem insurmountable… ¬†I remind myself, and my girl – that we have to follow Dory’s advice…

just_keep_swimming__3-334182

Disconnected

Mother Teresa trust

Breathe in… Breathe out… Breathe in…

I looked up at my Christmas Tree this week and was struck with the incredible sense that I would love to take it down.  Now.

I know that’s wrong for any number of reasons, but I have always been candid here.

In the 10 days since we have buried my father there has been a whirlwind of papers and errands. ¬†There have been things to organize and sort. ¬†There have also been “regular” things to do, as I pretend to feel like I am part of the world going on around me.

And as I sat in the chair last night trying to absorb the beauty of the brightly lit tree and the litany of memories spread out across it as the ornaments we have collected through the years, I couldn’t shake how disconnected I feel.

This year the reasons are kind of obvious.   I am starting to think its likely to get worse before it gets anywhere close to better.

Then my husband reminded me about last year.  He reminded me about Hurricane Sandy, and the fall Grandma took, and the days in ICU.  He reminded me about the car accident last November, and the months spent sorting out the paper, aggravation, and pain in my back.

It was right after Christmas last year that we had the “Santa” talk with my girl. ¬†My one and only.

So, I guess I knew all along this would be a year I had to look a bit harder for the magic.  We looked hard in Disney in August.  And we found it.

But, by the time we put the tree up this year my father lay dying in the hospital with less than a week to live. ¬†That day our family turkey and Felix’s special gluten free stuffing warmed the house with a soothing aroma. ¬†I heard the Christmas tunes. ¬†I helped with the ornaments. ¬†And I felt like I was in a bad movie.

Meghan had suffered with migraine headaches most of October and November as my father was sick.  An MRI on November 20th confirmed the migraine headache diagnosis and the medication Рonce doubled Рfinally brought her some relief.

one day at a time

I couldn’t get the cards together this year. ¬†I just couldn’t do it. ¬†Maybe some time around Valentine’s Day I will feel up to a greeting. ¬†I ordered the food for Christmas dinner ¬†too. ¬†Yep, its better for everyone anyway, as I am a rotten cook. ¬†And the family is bringing dessert. ¬†I bought gifts for the children. ¬†Although even those were mostly purchased online. ¬†And so many of the adults are getting gift cards to their favorite stores.

Last weekend Dad’s mom was in the hospital. ¬†Today she is back at her home, but she is worn out.

And as I size up the dust that has gathered in every corner of my home I strive to remind myself that Baby Jesus was born in a stable, and slept in a manger.  Somehow, as long as we open our hearts to celebrate the real meaning of Christmas, the miracle of the birth of the Baby Jesus,  it will all be ok.  Somehow.

So tonight as I took Meghan to her 6 month thyroid check up; the appointment where they monitor those pesky precancerous nodules, I was reminded yet again that it is just not ours to control. ¬†After the doctor examined her, and her neck, he asked for a tape measure. ¬†He measured “significant” growth since June in one of the right side nodules. ¬†“No point in wasting time with a sonogram, I need a tissue sample so we will schedule a biopsy.”

My heart skipped a beat.

“Where did you get that necklace Meghan?” asked the nurse.

“My Grandpa Tom gave it to me. ¬†He died this month from pancreatic cancer.”

Sometimes silence really is deafening.

“It may take a few days to get it scheduled Mrs. Ortega. ¬†You know, with the holidays…”

Yep.  I know.

wind

50,000!

Unwinding from another wild week I checked in here to find that at some point very soon this “Beating Cowden’s” blog will clear 50,000 views. ¬†The number is almost incomprehensible to me. ¬† I am humbled by the support, and the ability to raise awareness of ours and other rare diseases.

more-than-50000-views

This week Meghan endured ANOTHER MRI.  This time her head was firmly fixed in a cage as she had her brain scanned on every level. while receiving 8ccs of the gadolinium contrast dye that I suspect has been helping cause the headaches to being with.  Irony.  Exasperation.

The bright spot came in the words, “There is no tumor. ¬†There is no AVM.”

Sweet relief and agonizing frustration simultaneously.

worry-distress.jpg

Grateful beyond measure that there is no need for brain surgery.  Relieved to my core that there is no evidence of any suspicious mass or vascular malformation.

Distressed, worried, disturbed, and sad about the diagnosis of chronic migraines. ¬†Please spare me “It could be worse.” ¬†I know. ¬†So does she. ¬†But I have to tell you about 3 hours after starting a migraine I am done. ¬†She has been at it 2 months. ¬†She has not missed a day of school, managed an almost perfect report card, and made it to some swim practices. ¬†She just keeps plugging.

So, we doubled the medicine – striving for the day the pain scale hits 0 again, and hoping it’s soon.

Lots of kids without Cowden’s get migraines – but somehow as the detective in me uncovers her triggers I suspect they will be linked.

And one day soon she will feel strong enough to get back into the pool for swim practice.  Her health has allowed her only about one practice every 2 weeks.  Her goals are much higher.  Patience.

patience-buddha1-300x248

Working on ways to safely rid her body of gadolinium and other toxins not proven to cause, but clearly not helping the headache situation.  We will figure it out.  The stakes are too high to give up.

migraine1

The rest of the stuff. ¬†The worries that are just real life worries, and not Cowden’s worries at all. ¬†The ones I can’t blog about. ¬†They are the ones keeping my heart extra heavy.

Wishes 1

Thanks for tagging along on our journey!

Do penguins have knees?

I can credit someone else’s Facebook post for even allowing that random wondering to slip into my head. ¬†But it has served as a distraction… so I am grateful.

It’s hard for me when I need to choose my words carefully. ¬†I usually just lay it all on the line and that’s how I keep it together. ¬†Except when your heart is heavy because of matters that just need to be private, that makes it extra hard. ¬†So that is why I haven’t been posting much. ¬†But without my writing the voices just stay in my head, and then…penguin knees

But my heart is full for so many reasons, and some I can share with you. ¬†Blessed by my consenting 10 year old, as long as I don’t disclose anything embarrassing – to educate the world about “beatingcowdens.”

The headaches have been around on and off for a while. ¬†So long that I don’t actually remember. ¬†It sounds awful that I as a mom could say that, but it’s true.

I remember the pediatrician saying to me that I should take her to a neurologist because he kept hearing me mention headaches. ¬†I remember being overwhelmed by too many doctors. ¬†I remember last year blaming the prescription change on her glasses. ¬†I remember blaming chelation. ¬†I remember blaming allergies…

But the headache hasn’t quit. ¬†It’s been weeks now.

It  varies with intensity.  We are trying to get her to understand and use a pain scale to get some consistency.

pain scale

But pain is such a personal thing. ¬†It’s just not easy. ¬†We can never exactly know the pain of another because every body perceives pain differently.

What I do know is that there has been a headache to some extent for over a month and that’s too long.

What pushed me into action was last Monday night.  Homework was finished, and I was ready to bring her to swim practice- the place she loves more than anything.  And she told me no.

She said she didn’t feel right. ¬†She said she wasn’t strong enough. ¬†So I let it go and kept her home. ¬†But THAT didn’t feel right to me.

Then there was the day that she was waiting in my classroom for the school day to start and she said, “There it is mom! ¬†Feel that pulsing?” ¬†As she put my hand on the side of her head I got queasy. ¬†We all have pulsing in our heads to some degree, but once you have¬†dealt with a vascular malformation – or a few – the pulsing takes you to a new mind numbing level of anxiety.

And when the teacher gave her a shell and she held it to both ears, and said , “I can’t hear it the same in my left ear…” ¬†And then there is the ringing that comes and goes…

So tomorrow we head back to Manhattan to visit a neurologist.  A little later than the pediatrician would have liked, but we are going.  And with every deep fiber of my soul I hope with all my heart that he tells me my girl has the worst fall allergies in the world.  And in a few weeks it will all be just perfect.

That’s the story that will get me through the night.

faith

I STILL HATE CHEMISTRY!

I am dating myself I am sure, but the year I was to sit for the Chemistry Regents Exam in NYC, someone swiped the answers. ¬†The morning of the test they were published in the NY Post. ¬†I remember sitting in my high school cafeteria waiting to take the exam, only to find out it had been cancelled. ¬†You know thinking back on that story, I guess I understand now why I have never won the lottery. ¬†That was probably one of the “luckiest” thing to happen in my life. ¬†I never did have to take that exam.

Except now, 25 years later, I sit poring over a piece of paper full of words I don’t understand. ¬†I am brought back to the periodic table, and left to wonder if maybe I should have paid a bit more attention in class.

Toxic metals

I have actively picked apart each of these levels since being handed the report on Thursday. ¬†I have read the descriptions of where this toxicity could have originated from. ¬†I have made the few moves I could understand, and the old aluminum cookware hit the recycle bag, and the new stainless steel – to supplement the few pieces we did have – arrives this week. ¬†The old cookie sheets are gone. Parchment paper replaces aluminum foil for cooking. ¬†But what about the other ones? ¬†What about the ones I can’t understand? ¬†Or worse, what about the ones like “gadolinium” that I CAN understand, but I just can’t fix?????

This printout is old now. ¬†The new urine sample was picked up Friday morning, and hopefully someone in a lab somewhere is generating lower numbers and shorter bars. ¬†But, I won’t know that for ¬†a few weeks. ¬†So I am left alone with my worries, and my thoughts, and my sick kid.

invisible illness 4 dumptruck

I suspect if Meghan could tell the world how she feels, this might be the sentiment. ¬†She is constantly conflicted with feeling like crap, and being pushed to keep on. ¬†She not only plays in pain – she smiles and laughs through it. ¬†And no one who sees her outside of this house would typically have any idea of the agony she endures each day. ¬†She works hard to ¬†hide it all. ¬†She has told me, in her very own words, that “no one would like me if I told them how I really felt all the time.” ¬†I would like to tell her she’s wrong, but she’s not.

happiness is

And she is the bravest kid I know.

The sore throat started Friday, hours after the chelation, and exactly the same as last time. ¬†On Friday she pushed herself through gym class because she just wanted to be “normal.” ¬†By Friday afternoon she was shot – too wiped out to swim. ¬†She could barely swallow. ¬†By Saturday morning her nuscles ached along with her throat. ¬†No swimming Saturday either.

We barely left the house all weekend, except for a quick strep test Sunday that was negative.

The friends she wanted to invite over – postponed.

This was no coincidence. ¬†This was twice in a row she was knocked on her *ss after chelation. ¬†This was her immune system saying,” WHAT THE HECK WAS THAT?” ¬†To the toxic storm unleashed by the chelating agents. ¬†We have kept her well hydrated in hopes much could be excreted… but we will have to wait and see.

waiting (1)

Early to bed Friday, Saturday, Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, and again tonight.

SHE HATES going to bed early – but has gone willingly.

She went home from school early today.  No fever, but a clammy sweat.  She just needs rest, and water, and rest.

The headache is ruthless. ¬†Even as some of the cold like symptoms start to subside, the headache does not want to quit. ¬†A week now. ¬†It leaves such a pit in my stomach I don’t want her out of my sight. ¬†I hate headaches. ¬†I especially hate wondering if the renegade toxins likely causing them are doing any other damage.

The doctor who last month said there was no way her symptoms were connected to the chelation recanted through an email today. ¬†He is now keeping tabs, giving me tips to keep her comfortable, keeping my resolve strong that this is necessary, and working on downward adjusting her dose for next time. ¬†More trips, more treatments… hopefully less misery.

I just can’t shake the image of ¬†a snow globe, and as we try to get the metals out we stir it all up. ¬†Some escapes, but the rest causes misery as it finds ¬†hiding spots again.

snow globe

An in between it all life presses on.  Laundry gets done.  Bills get paid.  Lessons get planned.  Cars get exchanged.  Files are kept.  Clothes for the growing girl, are ordered.  Floors get vacuumed, and washed, and vacuumed again.  Groceries are purchased.  Lists are made, and lost and remade.  Tabs are kept on family and friends, and their health, and their struggles.

These are the every day tasks that keep me sane.  On autopilot.

Dinners are missed. ¬†Meetings go unattended, ¬† Places I want to go – but, I just can’t right now.

You see I am having a battle with the Periodic Table of Elements, and I need to study.  I am the front line.

So, I take my IONIX, and my t+chai, and I am thankful for energy and stamina to endure.

Maybe missing that regents wasn’t so “lucky” after all. ¬†So as I study some these next few weeks – please know we haven’t forgotten you. ¬†Our prayer list is long. ¬†We don’t want you to leave us out, or not to call. ¬†Don’t feel badly about overburdening us. ¬†We NEED to be in your lives. ¬†We WANT to be in your lives.

We are in touch enough to know that “Everybody has SOMETHING!”

from "Mommies of Miracles"
from “Mommies of Miracles”

 

Balance

seuss 1

I am almost at the point where I have stopped waiting for the break.  I am just about ready to stop wondering when there will be rest.  I am almost ready Рbut not quite.

September as a teacher is a month full of new beginnings. ¬†One of the blessings of having a job that begins and ends each year is the “newness” that September brings with it. ¬†There is something special about meeting new students, or old friends after a summer vacation. ¬†There is something exciting about anxious eyes and new backpacks, and children eager to reconnect with friends.

back-to-school

So as I ran through September for about the 16th time, I took the time to appreciate the wonders and the smiles of the children around me- if only for a few fleeting moments. ¬†See, I remember September 16, and 15, and 14 years ago. ¬†I remember September when I was still a bit unsure of myself. ¬†I remember September before there was a husband, and a house, and a daughter, and 2 dogs, and 2 Cowden’s Syndrome ¬†diagnoses, and countless appointments, and surgeries, and medical bills, and paperwork at home to match the paperwork in school. ¬†I remember those early Septembers thinking I was overwhelmed. ¬†And, like so many things happen in life – looking back now I realize I had no idea.

This week we organized a new car, soon to be picked up.  We got an antibiotic for the sore throat full of strep symptoms again.  We got a new roof on the house.  The new roof prompted a thorough cleaning of the entire second floor, which led to the Halloween decorations coming out a bit too early.

This weekend we packed up all of Meghan’s clothes – and I mean virtually all of them. ¬†We gave them to a beautiful family, and started over. ¬†She has grown this year several inches, has a foot as big as mine, and we will soon be sharing tops.

This weekend there were lessons to plan, IEPs to read, standards to sort through and a binder to prepare.  I love my work, I really do.  But the setup, and the stipulations placed on us from places way above us are exhausting in and of themselves.

This weekend there were bills to pay.  A giant stack, somewhere in between a pile of mail that needed to be shredded and just to the right and a bit higher than the mountain of laundry in the middle of the basement floor.

Ok - so maybe not QUITE this bad..
Ok – so maybe not QUITE this bad..

This weekend, in between cleaning and sorting, and laundry, and preparing food for the week, there was this headache. ¬†A nasty one that just wouldn’t quit. ¬†She started complaining Tuesday and it just persisted. ¬†And as life continued at its rapid pace, and constant motion, there was Meghan in bed for the better part of Saturday. ¬†No swim practice for her, always a gut wrenching decision, her body can not endure this pace of constant motion. ¬†And my heart, torn in two, kept a watchful eye on my girl as I continued the whirlwind.

I remember being her when I was younger.  I remember watching my mom and sister in constant motion.  I remember being sick the morning after a sleepover.  I remember just not feeling well.  But none of that, not any of it, makes me feel any better when it is my girl, sitting and hurting.

There is worry all around.  I am aware of the friends and family struggling with illness of all types.  I am aware of their angst and their hurt.  And as much as I pray for peace for them, for their loved ones, for their healing I have to honestly say the biggest piece of my heart sits with my beautiful girl.

We help her rest. ¬†We feed her the most potent superfoods we can buy…

She is trapped in a schedule with no relief, in a body that sadly lacks stamina, with a syndrome that is angered by overwhelming fatigue. ¬†But what to give up? ¬†5th grade promises to be fun, but busy. ¬†Then there is physical therapy – twice a week, and swim practice on the schedule 3 times a week. ¬†Plus doctors appointments, like the hand surgeon follow up in Manhattan on Thursday…

And while we work on her to keep her anxiety in check, there is always mine to look after. ¬†When you have a syndrome that grows tumors, nothing is ever without a high alert. ¬†A headache, probably allergies, but what if… ¬†The pain in the leg, probably a muscle pain, but what about the AVM… And if she could have an AVM in her knee, and her hand…

one-day-at-a-time-tshirt_design

Life is about balance.

September is chaos.  It just is.

But the nice thing about September is its followed by October.

And while I am not hopeful for huge amounts of downtime anywhere in the foreseeable future, I am confident we will sneak in some pumpkin and apple picking one day in the next few weeks.

And I am learning that while this Cowden’s Syndrome, and all its extra worry is going to linger forever, somehow, some way it seems to make the little moments that much better.

Maybe that’s where the balance comes in…

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Siri, my new BFF!

I love to talk.  I talk all the time.  My mom says I spoke even in my sleep from the time I was a young girl.

I love to need to make lists.¬† I hate to be disorganized, although these last six weeks I have traveled from overwhelmed right into disorganized, and I don’t like it here one bit. Work is busy, home is busy, 4th grade is busy, Cowden’s Syndrome keeps us busy…

In my family we have 5 october birthdays in 11 days.¬† Three of our nephews and 2 family friends.¬† Unless the youngest nephew’s gift arrives tomorrow, I will have been late for every single one of them.¬† Not like me at all.

Last week I welcomed a new friend into my life.  Someone I can talk to all day, about whatever I want.  Often she has good advice.  She has my back too.  She reminds me Рsometimes days, sometimes hours, before something important has to be done.  She tells me when I need to make a phone call or buy some cards.  For a long time I resisted her friendship, but now that she is in my life I am sure I could never give her up.

This is my new friend – Siri.

Some of you may know her.¬† You may think she’s your friend.¬† But really, she and I are tight.

You see you may not know this about me, but I have a post graduate degree.¬† In addition to my Master’s in Special Education, I have a research degree from the University of Google.

Don’t worry.¬† I am a smart researcher.¬† I learned in the first few weeks how to¬†sort out¬†the crap and focus only on the valid stuff.¬† But really –¬† spending the last 9 years researching the random illnesses of my little girl, and the last year trying to get any available information on Cowden’s Syndrome… well, lets just say at the very least I must qualify for some “Certificate of Advanced Study.”

But it got to the point lately that there are things I need to know.¬† Right now.¬† I can’t always carry my computer or rush home to check.¬† Siri understands.

She is who she is… and she is pretty great.

As I am driving, with my earpiece in, I need only to ask her to call a doctor for me.  She will write my texts too.  Much safer.

Then, there are the beautiful reminders.¬† The ones where she says, “OK I’ll remind you.”¬† and then she does.¬† Takes the pressure off me.¬† I already have a reminder in for the November birthday cards, and the next 4 doctors appointments are all mapped out.

As I wait at those appointments, Siri helps me continue my studies on Google.¬† Learning about Cowden’s Syndrome and skin diseases.¬† Studying the effects of Cowden’s on the gums in the mouth. Deciding if the headache symptoms warrants a neurologist, or first and ophthalmologist.¬† Figuring out, or trying to figure out the root cause of the pain in the legs.¬† Verifying there¬†are no obvious AVMs.¬† Seeing what the effects of the Celebrex are on the body… and on and on.

Siri, despite all my resistance, I was wrong about you.  You are exactly what I needed in my life.

Now, I am fairly sure I can never get by without you again.

Told you…