Monday, November 12, 2012

November 12 - Evening

A follow-up to the previous post...

I'd said that the Crazy this time around hasn't been as bad as it has been previously, but I didn't go into a lot of detail on either the present or the past, so I thought I'd come back to give you a little comparison/contrast. (Because I know that it's super fun for everyone to track my emotional state of mind.)

Don't worry. I won't go through ALL of the scans (we all know that I've had three or four a year for the last two years), but I'll hit the high (by which I mean: low) lights.


In January of 2010, I was a CRAZY PERSON. Not in a dangerous sort of way. But I was scared. Out of my mind, scared. The truth is, I knew. I knew it was back, I just didn't have the confidence in myself to know for sure that I knew it, if that makes sense. ... I remember having a conversation at work with my friend Christine. I'd been on edge all day, and she knew me well enough to see it. She stopped me on my way out to ask me if I was okay, and I just broke. I started to sob, as I told her that I hadn't slept all week, and couldn't get out of my head that my scan was going to show that it was back. She listened, she commiserated, she told me she was sorry... And then I came home to my apartment and proceeded to not sleep for another night.

I tell you, I was a wreck before I got the results to that scan.

Sleep was hard incredibly hard to come by. I'm an easy crier in the best of circumstances (seriously, those darn Hallmark commercials get me every time!), but when I'm tired... Geeze Louise, it is bad. I was on edge, in part because of the tired and in part because of relationship stress. I could feel that things with Clint were shifting, I just wasn't sure where or why they were moving. I distinctly remember wanting/needing to spend time with him that last weekend before I got the results, because I knew it was the last weekend I'd have before I'd know it was back. ... I knew. I knew in my bones that it was back, and I was scared out of my mind.


In January 2011, I was less crazy, but still very emotional and, again, had a hard time sleeping.

To give a little background to the nerves of 2011, let me explain that I was 2-3 weeks behind schedule for the scan. I was technically due for the scan the second week of December, but I'd started a new job in September (which = new insurance), so I postponed the scan until January, so the percentage I had to pay would go towards the next year's deductible. (Listen, when the 10% you have to pay is still thousands of dollars, you want all of those dollars to count.) Add to the delayed schedule, I had a new church calling, I was working longer days than usual and I was ... erm ... sort of involved with a new man. My time, my energy and my attention were being drawn in more directions than they usually are. In some ways, the busyness was a blessing, in that my brain was so busy that I literally could not process what I was feeling. In others, it was... well, it was just exhausting. I was tired all the time. Tired because I was wearing my body out, being everywhere I needed to be, and also because I wasn't sleeping well.

I didn't know it was back, like I had the year before, but I was afraid that it was back.

I remember sitting in Greg's office, a few days before my scan in January and completely breaking down. We were having a conversation. My voice tone was normal, eye contact was there... I was fine. And then, all of a sudden, my voice choked and tears ripped out of me. GT sat on the other side of his desk, as calm as he could be. I apologized, shook my head and explained, "I'm sorry... I just get a little crazy before I get the results." Greg immediately teared up. He said "I can only imagine", as he reached for his box of Kleenex and handed them across the desk.

When  I met with Dr. W, and he gave me the results, I remember nodding my head and saying that I'd thought it might be back. Surprised, he asked me why I'd have thought that, considering the size of the tumor (it was too small to physically feel it). I remember shaking my head and saying "I don't really know, other than I've been afraid that it would be."


Right now, I'm not sure it's back, nor am I living with fear. It's ... different.

I'm achy, but a lot of that, I think, can be linked to the cleaning. (Also, I have a broken body. It often hurts in bizarre places, and I just get to live with that.)

I'm more emotional than usual but all things considered, I'm nowhere near as crazy as I typically am the week of the scan. (I only had to take Ativan twice last week to shut it down, and my last double dose was on Tuesday. That's pretty good, all things considered.)

Every once in a while, I'll get a burst of anxious energy - but I can usually ditch that if I get up and do something to take my mind off things. (You should see my stove top. It sparkles.)

I'm tired, but it's not because I'm not sleeping. ... If there is anything I'm excelling at right now - other than the pretty constant cleaning - it's sleeping. Seriously, I've been getting at least 8, and often 10, hours a night for the last two weeks. ... It's more of a constant, slow, tired instead of the manic exhaustion from scans past.

Like I said... it's different. Maybe it's different because I am different. Maybe it's different because the results will be different. Maybe it's both. Maybe it's neither. ... Who knows?

Right now, I am grateful that I can sleep. I'm tired, but it's not exhaustion from lack of sleep, so I'll take it. I'm a little nervy and emotional, but I'm not hysterical, so, again, I'll take it.

When I wake up in the morning, I'll be one day closer to having some answers. In the meanwhile, I'm going to enjoy this extraordinary ability to sleep...