Later on today, I will travel to Dr. Academic's office and find out the results of my Pet Scan.
Holy crap, am I ever tweaked about this.
Gah. I know I'm flipping out over nothing. I know I am, but, God help me, I can't quite keep myself from doing so. This is such a bad move. I know it, but, again, I can't help myself.
I woke up at five this morning, which I think we all know, my devoted Cake Eater readers, doesn't happen even when I want to wake up at five. I'm not a morning person. At all. Yet, this morning, I woke up while it was still dark and, better yet, was completely awake, instead of being groggy and crabby at being disturbed. This never happens. Just ask the husband. I got up, went to the little girls' room, had a drink of water, and then went back to bed. It was only through repeated rubbing of my back that the husband was able to lull me back to sleep. Sigh. He's such a good egg. I honestly don't know what I'd do without him.
Sigh.
I know this appointment is probably going to take less than fifteen minutes.
I know that this appointment won't start any where near the scheduled time. Dr. Academic will be running late, as always. And he will be in a hurry to give me the results, and when that's done, will do his absolute best to whoosh out of the exam room, because he's got his reputation as the human tornado to uphold.
I know it will probably be all good and that everything is fine, but...
...what if it isn't?
That's all I can think about. I can think positively as much as I'd like to, but thinking positively about this stuff has not gotten me very far in this whole fiasco. I've learned the hard way that thinking positively, and hoping for the best, will only lead me to rack and ruin. But keeping the negative stuff from being too negative, if you get what I'm saying, my devoted Cake Eater readers, is even harder, it seems. I'm having all sorts of visions of more cancer, more surgery, and more chemo. And it's all scaring the shit out of me, because I don't want ANY of those things to happen. Even though it's highly unlikely that they will, in the first place.
Sigh.
Like a drunk driver completing a sobriety test, I'm searching for the fine line in the middle, kids, and I'm having a hard time slapping my big fat feet down on it.
Keep your fingers crossed, my devoted Cake Eater readers, eh? Not just for everything to be fine, but so that I don't lose what's left of my already-addled mind between now and two.
Posted by Kathy at November 16, 2007 10:13 AM | TrackBackYou should keep reminding yourself that it will work out alright. Because it will.
They poked & prodded you enough to know everything about your body, and the chemo drugs killed all the cancer, so you're gonna live a long & happy life after this nightmare is finally over.
So give yourself a break & try to keep a positive mindset between now & two. Besides, if they do have bad news for you after two o'clock, you'll have plenty of time to worry about it after that appointment. Give yourself some "me" time right now.
Hell, have a beer. Not a Grain Belt or Pig's Eye either, maybe a Schell or a Shiner Bock (if y'all can get those up there in hockeyland) served ice-cold while you're reading a relaxing book.
You DO have something to serve a beer in, don't you? (hint,hint)
I'll be praying for you, and multiple fingers will be crossed in our household.
Posted by: Russ from Winterset at November 16, 2007 10:27 AMPrayers, vibes, good thoughts, all coming your way.
Posted by: Ith at November 16, 2007 11:11 AMI'm thinking of you, love.
Posted by: Margi at November 16, 2007 11:32 AMHello. I've not been to you blog in ages and arrive now in the midst of drama. I've been through some drama as well, and remember very clearly the music I listened to waiting for the surgery. The cancer was not systemic, so no chemo, but I understand the apprehension. God bless and preserve you. K.
Posted by: Kerry at November 16, 2007 11:58 AMYes. It's me hitting "refresh" every 10 minutes! Love you and worried -
Posted by: Margi at November 16, 2007 05:30 PM