The good news about today is that I didn't wake up crying.
Listen, I have to be grateful for the little things. And dry eyes is something that I'll take, whenever I can get them, esp after the big, fat cry-fest that was yesterday.
Another thought I had: Maybe I can get my social worker at MD on the case. I don't know if there's anything the cancer center itself can do to get covered by an insurance carrier, but just in case... she's worth a shot. (Also, she's someone I need to talk to about what will happen to me if and when I have surgery and don't have any kind of STD income coming in. I'm thinking that I may need to throw myself a fund raiser and she's the girl who will know exactly how much money I may need versus how much money would be too much to have in the bank. -- If I have too much money, I can't qualify for federal grants or assistance. Too much money in my account is, obviously, not something I worry about on a daily basis, but I like to think that the universe will throw all kinds of money at me once I formally declare that I need it and throw a fundraiser for myself. I just want to make sure I won't hurt my chances of getting assistance from somewhere other than the kindness of friends and strangers. The social worker could be a huge ally here.) I must call her today.
My other thoughts this morning are along the lines of, where do I find the fine line between being content and happy in my current life and preparing for a future that I have reason to believe may be difficult, physically and financially? ... People keep telling me to just be happy today, because today is all I really have. I get this principle, I really do, and I make an effort every day to find the little things that make me happy or bring me joy. The thing is, I also happen to have a diagnosis that tells me what is coming. And what's coming isn't certain death, by any means. But it is certain pain (I've had the surgery twice, and I know what it is like to have to learn to walk again), and it is certain lack of an ability to work, and there is a toll that it takes on my body. And I am unable to drive for 6-8 weeks, let alone work and bring in any kind of money.
So, please believe me when I say that I know the importance of finding joy in the journey. I know that this day is the most important day I will have, because it's the only one I can actually do anything with. I know these things. - I also know that I have surgery in my future. I have a kind of tumor that is rare, and virtually untreatable. (Nothing beats going to the doctor and hearing that chemo doesn't work on what I have, and neither will more radiation.) I live in hope that this surgery will be my last, that Dr. G will be able to truly get to the root of the issue and it will never come back. But I have to wonder what will happen if he doesn't get it all, if he can't, and this is something that I need to learn how to live with, because I'll be on a tumor-growing cycle for the rest of my earthly days. ... Let alone how I'm going to pay for this as a single gal with my limited funds.
I figure this blog can go viral and I'll get a book deal and it'll be a best seller, or Nathan Fillion will come into my life and marry me and pay for all of my medical needs for the rest of my life. I'm fine with either scenario.