Over the past two months, I've had many moments when I've thought that I couldn't endure another day without knowing what's wrong with me, without getting an answer or some relief from the pain. I remember the evening when my former urologist's office called to tell me they didn't find anything in my CT scan. I cried my eyes out for about thirty minutes and then made Bryan take me to Taco Bueno for chicken mucho nachos. I thought I couldn't possibly feel more desperate for relief than I did in that moment. Weeks later, I feel years older and wiser. I had laparoscopic surgery two weeks ago today and it revealed absolutely nothing new. Yes, my urinary tract is weird. No, I didn't have endometriosis or visible cysts. My greatest fear before the surgery was waking up in the recovery room and hearing the news that the doctor didn't find anything, and that's exactly what happened. It took a few days for that to settle in, and when it did, I really cried. Then yesterday, a glimmer of hope: a renal scan revealed definitively that my left kidney is pretty bad off. The top portion of it is almost entirely blocked, but the lower portion works great. My new urologist says that it would be a fun surgery for her to perform, but the risks of trying to reconstruct it again are pretty high and she'd rather approach my treatment conservatively. She thinks I should be able to get pregnant and carry a baby to term without causing more damage. She also thinks my chronic abdominal and pelvic pain may be the result of spasms in my bladder and lower urinary tract. She wants to try treating it first with a bladder relaxant and then possibly with some pain management techniques. So, that's where I am today. I am cautiously optimistic, but I know better now than to celebrate or throw a big pity party. Sometimes, when we think we couldn't possibly endure more, God reveals to us that we indeed can.