It is 8:17AM here (US Central Time) and I have been awake all night. I tried to sleep a few different times but I kept dreaming about the idiot surgeon telling me I had cancer. I understand why that is showing up in my dreams. Today (this morning in fact) is the day I get the biopsy results from the surgeon. Despite trying not to get my hopes up too high for a benign result, I know my hopes are sky high and if the results are malignant I am going to be crushed. I slept a total of less than1 hour (20 minutes, separated by 4 hours in between).
I've been through a lot in my life. Neglect, emotional and physical abuse as a child and an adult, sexual abuse, rape, bouts of severe depression, injuries to my back resulting in severe chronic pain. I should be able to handle this without feeling like I am coming unglued shouldn't I? I am trying so hard to keep it together and not lose it, mostly for my son's sake. He doesn't read this blog so I can vent it all here. Though my daughter does read it and I don't want to upset her either. But she understands about venting a lot better than he does as she is older and has her venting moments too. People expect me to be strong, to keep it together and not lose it, but I think on this issue I'm going to and I pray they understand.
I am so flipping scared! I just want to find a small, dark place, crawl inside, curl up and hide. I don't want to face this. I want to forget it ever happened and ignore it. I'm sitting here typing and watching my husband stand up, pace a bit, sit back down and try to concentrate on his game only to stand up and pace a bit. He's been doing that for the last 15 minutes. I can see his worry and fear in his eyes. But I can also see his love for me and his determination to be there for me every step of the way, no matter what the diagnosis is and that just amazes me. I am counting on it too. I know him. He will keep his word. He has been here for me every moment of the past 13 years (since we've known each other), even when we did not live together if I needed him, he was just a phone call away. If I needed him to be there, he would get in his car and come to me (an 8 hour drive I think it was). It is a lot nicer to have him right here in the same house as me and boy do I need him this time.
I cried last night. I tried watching a movie to distract myself. I did pretty good distracting myself most of the day, but as the house quieted down (a friend went home and Bridgette went to bed) I had a harder time of it. So I put in a movie we got from Netflix called "Lovely Bones". It is based on a book that I really loved. However, last night was not a good night to watch such a sad and emotional movie. I made it through the first 25 minutes or so then started bawling. I turned the movie off, went into the bathroom and cried. I pulled myself together and decided to go to bed and read. Ron (DH) said he could see by the way I sat on the bed for a minute before laying down that something was wrong so came over and hugged me. As soon as his arms went around me I just started crying. I couldn't help it, but it is ok because I know he doesn't see my crying as a weakness or an attempt to manipulate him. I do not cry very easily but I did last night. In Ron's arms I am safe and it is safe for me to let go because he will hold me up and be there for me in those vulnerable times. I can't begin to tell you how wonderful that is and how great it feels to
know beyond a shadow of a doubt that he will not harm me in any way for having times when I need to cry.
I know I am rambling but this is all I want to do right now, just ramble and vent while I wait for the time to go to the doctor's office. My appointment is at 9AM, the office is less than 5 minutes from my house, and it is now 8:35AM. My mind is whirring, my heart is pounding, and I can't concentrate to read or stitch or anything so I'm doing what I used to do when I had such emotional worrisome moments before; write it all out.
I know this is going to sound stupid but part of me wants to hear the doctor say it is malignant, just so I can look him in the face and tell him he is an idiot and that I hope he learned something from this. That I hope he learned that not all his patients are unintelligent idiots, and that he should LISTEN to his patients more often. I also want to tell him that he needs to go back to medical school and retake the courses where they cover cancer, specifically breast cancer because the information he is giving his patients (the information he gave me) is WRONG WRONG WRONG!
I wish this was over. The only other times I have felt this worried, this scared, vulnerable, tiny, terrified etc etc were when I was giving birth to my children and those occasions when my children had to go into the hospital for one reason or another. The times I had to be on suicide watch for my daughter, hide all the sharp items in the house where she couldn't get to them, a constant litany of "please God help her. Please God Please God Please God" running through my head. The time my son had pneumonia (both lungs) and an asthma attack, his oxygen saturation in his blood was in the 70s, as soon as they got that reading the nurse ripped him out of my arms and literally took off running with him into the actual ER treatment rooms (we had been in the triage/check-in area). For a second I was stunned and could only watch as this woman took off with my baby (he was a year or so old) before it dawned on me that I need to follow her and I took off after her. The same litany of please god please god going through my head.
It is time to go. please God, let him say benign.
please