Now, I didn’t call the clinic that day. I went home, cried my heart out and prayed for answers. A dear friend of mine, that I barely knew at the time, drove to my house and picked me up. We drove around as we cried and talked about my options during this scary time. I went back to the hospital the next day for my results which confirmed it was not an infection, but a genetic abnormality of which they were not sure yet. I then spent the weekend with my family, barely eating. It was Fourth of July weekend, but I spent my time sleeping on the couch in unimaginable pain, physically and mentally.