As long as I have something to do, I'm okay. Or at least I can act like I'm okay. Call the doctor, call the insurance company, talk to human resources, and on and on and on. But now I've got nothing to do but wait.
Wait for the bone scan and CT on Tuesday. Wait for the ultrasound echocardiogram on Wednesday. Wait for the port placement on January 31st. And then wait for my first treatment of chemo. I have time for real panic. Panic that cuts my breathing short, knots my muscles, makes me sick.
People tell me to take it one thing at a time, one procedure at a time. But panic has me seeing the next two weeks as one big block of procedures. I have no idea how to handle all of this. No idea how to break things into tinier bits. I just wish the medical offices had pieced all of this into smaller servings and meted it out to me one phone call at time.
"Hello, Susan, can you come in for your bone scan?"
"Hello, Susan, can you come in for your CT?"
I hate knowing all the next steps to come because then my mind focuses, obsesses, fills with fear. But when someone said to me after finding out I'd have to do 4 months of chemo, "Oh, my God. You have to go through chemo. How horrible." the only response I could think to say was, "Well, it's better than dying of cancer." And it is.
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