it's 11:46 in the morning and i feel a little like the pressure of my pounding heart is keeping me from moving from this couch... so i might as well post.
okay, let me stop the hyperbole. i'm not physically unable to get up from the couch and my heart is only slightly fluttery and my palms only a little sweaty.
it's nothing, so don't let my anxiety transfer over to you, because there is no bad news coming from this post. i promise you.
yesterday my oncologist's office called to tell me i had missed an appointment with him that day. "no," i said. because i knew nothing whatsoever about an appointment scheduled for yesterday. i did know of the possibility of an appointment being scheduled in the last week of february, but because i never got a letter in the mail or in my virtual mailbox (the way we are all supposed to start getting mail from public institutions here in denmark nowadays), i let it go and decided it wasn't going to happen and i didn't need it anyway. i have my ct scan next monday and an appointment two weeks after that to get those results and have a check-up.
i'd talked to my doctor in mid-january about changing my treatment from tamoxifen to an ovarian function suppressor (i.e. a menopause inducer) plus aromatase inhibitor (i.e. potential osteoporosis causer) (sounds like fun, huh?!), because a large study came out (SOFT trial) indicating that for people like me (i.e. high risk for recurrence or spread), it's a good idea to make the switch. i wanted to talk to my doctor (my third oncologist who i will meet today for the first time-- the first switched hospitals, the second became the 'head doctor' for the department and so doesn't take patients anymore), before switching. but he didn't have any openings until the last week of february and so we decided i'd come in then (but like i say, that appointment, as far as i was ever concerned, never got scheduled) and in the meantime i decided to go ahead and switch treatments without talking to him (convinced after hearing a talk about it, that it really is what i should do. so i've been on this treatment now for the last 20 days).
so today's appointment is about not much really. an early check-up. a chance to tell him about our summer plans. and yet still, the thought of sitting in that waiting room... well... makes me nervous! a pavlovian response, nothing more.
so now i have to leave. i take care of a sweet but growing golden retriever pup named nana peter pan a few days a week these days. then i'll leave for the appointment that isn't until 1 p.m. simply so i don't have to add "rushed" to "nervous." and then i'll take a deep breath once i'm out of that waiting room, go to the grocery store to pick up bananas on my way to tutor our friends' daughter in english, and pick up my boys like it's just been any other thursday in february. (and i haven't edited this post, so watch for all kinds of spelling and grammar errors.)
7 comments:
Love you, my brave one! Hugs to you too. Wait until he gets to meet you! Lucky him :)
Love you, my brave one! Hugs to you too. Wait until he gets to meet you! Lucky him :)
Love you, my brave one! Hugs to you too. Wait until he gets to meet you! Lucky him :) P.S. I want to see a picture of the dog!
Love you, my brave one! Hugs to you too. Wait until he gets to meet you! Lucky him :) P.S. I want to see a picture of the dog!
It does have the feel of going to the principal's office as you rack your brains trying to figure out what you did that called for the summons.
Well, good luck. May it be a pleasant back and forth about the weather.
I wish I could learn to leave in plenty of time not to rush. I am always rushing. Even after retirement where you would think I would have all this free time...
My first response was "F-cancer". None of this flies by without a heart flutter. I went recently for a mammogram, 5 years out from diagnosis. I knew I was anxious when I wanted to snap at the technician giving me instructions, "I f-ing know all this..." I didn't snap, just wanted to get it over. I feel very fortunate to be hanging out with Ned (no evidence of disease). Feel like celebrating 5 years with Ned and at the same time superstition says maybe celebrating is inviting trouble. Yes, I know superstition. I also know Jane Kenyon's wonderful poem, "Otherwise".
A good friend just got a breast cancer diagnosis, is wading through the fear, opinions, "maybe do this, maybe do that".
You've done so well keeping the beast in it's place, staying focused on your two beautiful, busy distractors. Hooray for boys and bananas and puppies.
Sara
Thank you for sharing that poem, Sara. I didn't know it. The beast sometimes gets the better of me I think.
Post a Comment