In June of this past year, my husband was in and out of the hospital three times for complications from a heart procedure. I was, at the same time, taking care of our daughter, teaching a summer class, and writing a novel. I did it. I did it all. I kept going. And then a few weeks later, a pain emerged. It was, quite literally, a pain in my ass. And because it was in such an embarrassing place, I ignored it. Then I went to see my doctor and I medicated it. I pretended it wasn't there.
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