I couldn't decide if I was going to blog about my new situation, since I have already blogged about Crohn's disease and Dysautonomia, which means the part of my body that works automatically no longer does and I take medication to stay alive. The day I heard 'you have a growth and it must be removed' were the scariest words ever. The funny part was I'd already been told my life was going to be shortened because of dysautonomia and life can be a little scary with Crohn's, but a growth?
I nearly shit my pants.
I was able to push it off to the back of my mind because I deliberately missed two GYN appointments where I was suppose to go learn about my growth and the surgery that would take care of it. I literally, somehow, didn't go and had to be reminded multiple times. Who does that? Panic set in yesterday when I realized that the surgery is Tuesday or to be clear, tomorrow. I had a panic attack in the kitchen and didn't know what to do first: throw up or pass out. My third option was to run get a pillow, fold it up tight, throw it on the floor and lay my diaphragm on top, forcing my vagus nerve to relax since it won't do so on its own. I finally got the panic to give up, but me and that pillow haven't been far apart for the last 24 hours.
I do not know why I am so frightened. I have faced far worse things and didn't freak out. But I am freaking out and then some. I live on once a month chemotherapy and I am intimately familiar with bacterial infections. Radiation doesn't scare me either. This growth has me unable to sleep or eat. I am about as short of patience as it is possible for a person to get. I didn't know how impatient I can really get and neither did my husband. My BFF SIL dragged my ass out of the house today and took me shopping. Well, our idea of shopping which is lots of rest breaks. She is recovering from esophageal cancer and has been cancer free for one year this last Friday. My BFF friend, Bettysue thinks I've fallen off the earth. I missed her birthday and for that I feel terrible, but it's like my mind is only obsessed with one thing: get the damn growth out of there and biopsy it. Well, and in between that, a full on case of denial.
It actually started out funny like. I had my annual where I jokingly told my doctor my wrinkles were disappearing because I'd started bleeding--not a lot, just enough to even out my brow wrinkles. I didn't think two things about it until her face blanched. It was like when I went in to tell her I had blood in my diarrhea. She ran screaming out of the room that I had bloody diarrhea. I felt it was extremely important for her to understand that no, I had blood in my diarrhea not that my diarrhea was bloody, but she missed the entire point.
Which is how, two months ago, I began the process that would lead to tomorrow. I asked them back in December that if it was cancerous what would happen. She brushed me off, "Oh, we'd send you to a GYN to take care of it." Next thing I know, I'm meeting a new GYN who while he's a nice guy, he's a guy, and I don't want no stinking guy. Too bad, he's a guy. I live in a small town and I have to take what I can get.
So tonight I get to doze amidst the terror. I try not to get mad at myself for being so childish because maybe I've just reached my threshold, but I really am tired of people poking around in my body. I really am.
I nearly shit my pants.
I was able to push it off to the back of my mind because I deliberately missed two GYN appointments where I was suppose to go learn about my growth and the surgery that would take care of it. I literally, somehow, didn't go and had to be reminded multiple times. Who does that? Panic set in yesterday when I realized that the surgery is Tuesday or to be clear, tomorrow. I had a panic attack in the kitchen and didn't know what to do first: throw up or pass out. My third option was to run get a pillow, fold it up tight, throw it on the floor and lay my diaphragm on top, forcing my vagus nerve to relax since it won't do so on its own. I finally got the panic to give up, but me and that pillow haven't been far apart for the last 24 hours.
I do not know why I am so frightened. I have faced far worse things and didn't freak out. But I am freaking out and then some. I live on once a month chemotherapy and I am intimately familiar with bacterial infections. Radiation doesn't scare me either. This growth has me unable to sleep or eat. I am about as short of patience as it is possible for a person to get. I didn't know how impatient I can really get and neither did my husband. My BFF SIL dragged my ass out of the house today and took me shopping. Well, our idea of shopping which is lots of rest breaks. She is recovering from esophageal cancer and has been cancer free for one year this last Friday. My BFF friend, Bettysue thinks I've fallen off the earth. I missed her birthday and for that I feel terrible, but it's like my mind is only obsessed with one thing: get the damn growth out of there and biopsy it. Well, and in between that, a full on case of denial.
It actually started out funny like. I had my annual where I jokingly told my doctor my wrinkles were disappearing because I'd started bleeding--not a lot, just enough to even out my brow wrinkles. I didn't think two things about it until her face blanched. It was like when I went in to tell her I had blood in my diarrhea. She ran screaming out of the room that I had bloody diarrhea. I felt it was extremely important for her to understand that no, I had blood in my diarrhea not that my diarrhea was bloody, but she missed the entire point.
Which is how, two months ago, I began the process that would lead to tomorrow. I asked them back in December that if it was cancerous what would happen. She brushed me off, "Oh, we'd send you to a GYN to take care of it." Next thing I know, I'm meeting a new GYN who while he's a nice guy, he's a guy, and I don't want no stinking guy. Too bad, he's a guy. I live in a small town and I have to take what I can get.
So tonight I get to doze amidst the terror. I try not to get mad at myself for being so childish because maybe I've just reached my threshold, but I really am tired of people poking around in my body. I really am.
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