An Update

So, there's been a lot of shuffling happening, but it seems like all of the major pieces are now officially in line:

I cannot go to choir school this year.  I simply do not have enough time off.  Instead, I have to use this time to take a week and head up to the Mayo Clinic in Rochester, MN, the week of July 31st.  My doctor in town has officially recognized that we need more help in my case (which I am grateful that he recognizes this when necessary).  These steps will hopefully result in a plan for me, whether we're altering our treatment plan with medication changes, surgery, or something else.

What this means is that I must sacrifice my self-care time for emotional/spiritual wellbeing for physical self-care time, which is messed up.  

Honestly, I don't know how I feel at this point because I'm intentionally ignoring that side of things.  The only certain part I recognize is regret--I was wholly looking forward to choir school.  This was among many of the choices that I wish I did not have to make for the sake of my health.  Right now, I'm staying busy by arranging components at work, aligning other obligations, planning my packing list, tending to small projects at home, implementing a new workout routine, and otherwise continuing on whatever routine I can find.  

In chemistry, there is a process called titration (or titrimetry).  When trying to find the particular concentration of a certain part of a solution, a reagent is slowly introduced into the solution.  Once the solution has turned a certain color, then how much of that particular chemical per the volume is recorded, informing the experimenter a great deal about the specifics in that solution.  This can be a tedious process, adding in drops at a time to find the precise amount where the substance changed to the correct color.  In high school, we all seemed to stumble onto the give-the-nozzle-one-full-quick-turn method that brought a controlled amount without the agonizing slowness of drops at a time.  I mention this because a similar quick turn of the nozzle, moderate doses at a time, seems to be my current method for dealing with the emotional component.  Lots of small doses over time, allowing a wave to come in, acknowledge it, and let is pass through.  It's not enough that I have a whole picture yet, but I'm finding it is best to process things in doses at the moment.

We're making the right steps.  I hope we will have a plan soon.  And there isn't much else to do in the meanwhile except to carry on.