Xanax with a Scotch chaser....

Nah, not really.  I'd just do the Scotch solo. 

But, I did start that swallow awareness stuff at lunch time today, so I decided to call my doc and ask for some Xanax.  I had a 2007 prescription for it, quantity of thirty, of which twenty-seven are still in the bottle.  I would surmise that I'm probably not the type to get addicted to it.

Well, seems the PC (Primary Care) has decided he wants to see me tomorrow, so I'll take him my lovely tumor photos so I can ruin his lunch, too.  My appointment is at 1PM, so hopefully, he'll have the biopsy results back too.  Or... maybe he got them today, and that's why he wants to see me. :P

I got lots of hugs and love at work today, as a good 98% of our site already knows about my diagnosis.  I had called my boss on Friday to tell him of the excitement, and he told two friends, and THEY told two friends... you get my drift.

My dear friend, Linda, in HR said that happily, medical leave is a LOT more simple a transaction than it was in back in the day when I had Breast Cancer (BC).  So, at least that's one less thing about which to stress.

My co-worker, John, who I also think of as the younger brother I never had, and I were having a discussion of my exciting diagnosis, and we shared some jokes and I was feeling much more myself, i.e., able to cope and be the resident Finance comedian.  Of course, in the cube farm in which I work, if you blink, everyone in the aisle and then some can hear you.  So it was no surprise, really, when a lady from Procurement came by to tell me that I was an inspiration. 

HAH, I told her... you didn't see me on Saturday, when I was the queen of neurosis!  I've had time to digest this all, and put the ME back in the equation.  And I'm still the queen of neurosis, but she's currently tied up in the basement ... if I had a basement, that is.

It's just that one thing I learned from my last go-round with cancer is that it's so TIRING to be afraid all the time.  I'm much happier... being .. um... happy.  And I defintely still have the neuroses moments, but I'll have you know I played a good three hours of Dragon Age:  Origins tonight, and never gave my swallower one thought.

So, tomorrow it's off to the PC, and maybe I shall learn my cancer type, stage, etc.  Oh boy.  But, as with the BC, just give me a plan of attack, and I can cope.  It's the unknown that makes me nutso.  Oh, don't you love my acronyms?  Thirty-four years in aerospace... yeah, ... acronyms....

Gifts

As soon as my sister left the area, I cried in the nurse's arms, and BOY did I cry.  I told her I didn't think I could do it again.  You see, I had breast cancer and got through that pretty darned well, but it's not easy.

Now, I'm a few years older, and my lungs are a bit worse for wear, and I just felt defeated.  But of course, the news was still raw and I hadn't had a chance to digest it.  All I felt was just the depths of fear that can choke the life out of you.  But Jane, my sister, was coming back, so I had to stop crying and put on my coping face.

Most of Friday I worked on trying to keep the fear from making me insane.  Normally, I would have gone and researched this diagnosis, but I wouldn't go near the healthcare sites.  I was way too afraid they would tell me I could kiss my tookus goodbye.  Besides, until the biopsy results show up, it's all just speculation.  Do I need to make myself feel worse than I already do by reading things that will scare me until I cower under my sheet in abject misery?  Well, no.  I have Ally to kill.. but that's another story.

Saturday was a long day.  I had gone to bed really early on Friday, so I was awake at six-ish, and made coffee.  I then spent most of Saturday wondering how everything I ate or drank was making its way past the huge alien in my chest.  Oooh, that's not a good place to go:  Aliens... chest... John Hurt... but I digress.

The worst part of Saturday was being aware of swallowing.  I mean HYPER aware.  I'm a very severe asthmatic, and I have had problems with anxiety most of my life, but I have mostly been able to work on my breathing rhythms to keep the major panic attacks at bay.  But if there is one thing this alien HAS done, it's made me not so aware of my breathing. 

I'm an analyst; business/finance analyst, and I rely on data, I obsess about data.  So, when it comes to health, I have to have data.  I measure my lungs usually once a day, and pop the findings into a massive spreadsheet that goes back to 2004 when things started to really get bad lung-wise.  I haven't blown into my peak flow meter in days.  And really, I think I'm about par for where I have been of late.  Crappy. 

But this morning, Sunday, I woke to an insanely bright day.  There was a beautiful breeze which lured me outside, and there I found my hibiscus blooming crazily and I thought, wow, what a gift this day is!  And voila!  My appreciation was back.  That's what keeps me going; appreciation. 

Such as, my baby sister, Wendy, who calls me every single day and never fails to help me keep my perspective from tilting.  And my sisters that came to live with me several years ago, when our mom's health was failing and my lungs were crapping out.  Jane's out there making me beef barley soup and the scent is warm and loving and frankly quite yummy.  And today, the outlook on life is just somehow brighter and tomorrow I'll go to work, and be all normal, and when the biopsy data comes and we decide what we have to do, I'll do it.  It'll probably all suck, but I'll do it, because eventually, my appreciation will return and I'll find all these wonderful gifts once again.