You know how, when there's a thing you really want, you say over and over to yourself, "Man. I really want that thing."?
Sometimes, if you're the praying type you will say, "O, God, can you help me get that thing?"
And if you're the Oprah Secret type you will say, "Hey, World, I'm totally gonna get that thing."
If you're the Universe-y type you will say, "C'mon, Universe, please spare some thing mojo for me."
Except that, a lot of the time, it doesn't seem to matter who or what you talk to about your thing, there is a kind of evil laugh somewhere in the distance and then exactly the opposite of what you wanted or asked for or tried so hard to make happen, happens.
Say, for instance, you've been trying to get your baby to see some specialists that are 1200 miles away. You've been planning the trip for months. Your husband even figured out how to get Medicaid to pay for the plane tickets, hotel and food. Everything is set. So you throw out your desire to the Universe, to God, to anyone who will listen: Please have everything be OK. Please have us get some answers. Please have my baby stay healthy and happy so that the trip can be as successful as possible.
Except, when these words came out of your mouth, they must have sounded a lot like, "Please wait until 11 days before the first appointment, and then make sure my baby has a respiratory infection. Make it a good one, too, requiring lots of supplemental oxygen, two different kinds of antibiotics, nebulizer treatments every couple of hours, and loads of suctioning. In fact, if you could just make sure that his his airway is as irritated as possible before the trip, that would be awesome."
If you even get to go on the trip. Because, if he doesn't get well, it's canceled.
Call whatever you want… Murphy's Law, bad luck, whatever, it just fucking figures some little asshole germ is going to come in right at the home stretch and ruin everything.
Well not if I can help it, asshole germ. We're throwing everything we can at you. Because this trip? It's happening. We're going to see the fancy pants doctors. We're going to get some answers. We're doing it if I have to walk the 1200 miles up there, with the baby in my arms.
Why do things have to be so hard? Why the last minute shenanigans? I mean, really. Isn't there enough drama over here already?
Suck it, germs. I hope you heard that loud and clear.