Ah, and I thought I was so prepared. That’s the trouble with mental rehearsal of troubles. They catch on to your head and then and sneak up from another direction.
Yesterday was oncology check up day. Four month interval with blood tests, looking for the tumor marker and the “Can you open your pants for me?” the belly exam that I so love to tease John about. It does seem that the most attractive PA’s and nurses ask, “Can I see your scars?” and he obliges like they were his etchings.
It was all good, Blood work OK and tummy-tapping just fine. But me: not!
I was a crazy woman all day. Grumbling about minor infractions and feared big events. My scared-girl head took me on a day long roller-coaster of “he doesn’t love me” and “they (any “they” will do) will upset the apple cart of our good life.” Just a day of fearful scenarios that ended—I’m ashamed to say with me saying nasty things and finally sobbing.
Oh duh, cancer got me again.
I guess all’s well that ends well and our day ended with left over pasta, a Yankee win and an early bedtime.
Progress not perfection.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment