I need to write. I just haven’t. This week has been a whirlwind and I can’t wait for it to be over and done with for good. My bubble of positivity doesn’t seem quite as unbreakable as it did a few weeks ago. It’s been more fragile and touch and go. I’m doing what I can to reinforce it, but time is going to be the only thing to rebuild its walls.
I debated about whether to even go to the appointment with the specialist on Monday. My physical showed that I was passing blood. The test was redone and there was no mistake. All of this after the scares with my mammograms. I decided that the mammogram scare was the worst that I could receive and not to worry about the other. Still, better safe than sorry, so I went to the appointment.
I like this doctor and his nurse. If there’s something wrong, they’re the people to fix it, you know? I feel comfortable in their care. He explained that yes, there’s a lot of blood. Still microscopic, but it’s there and it’s constant. We need to find out why it’s occurring. Scopes, tests, ultrasounds. All looking good. I’m not having any symptoms, but I guess that worries him. I had another kidney function test this morning and a ct scan to see if there are any stones causing problems. I’ll know Monday when I go back.
He kept bringing up the C word. There’s not many things in this world I hate, but I do hate the C word. It’s what took the lives from my dad and grandfather. My grandmothers both had their own rounds of it and I’m not sure that I’m quite ready to have my turn at bat. I guess being brought up around so much serious illness makes me very sensitive to anything being wrong. I worry at times, but in all of those times, nothing has been worth worrying about to that level. Now, twice within the same month, I’m being told that it’s something that needs to be ruled out. Frankly, I’m having a rather hard time with that.
In my heart of hearts, I know everything will be ok. I know that as much as I know that I will take my next breath. But it scares me. It makes me angry. It makes me think too much about the things I shouldn’t have to even consider until much, much later. I know it will be ok, but twice! Twice?? Really, Universe?
Being scared is normal. Being angry? That’s odd for me. I feel selfish that my own body could be possible of betraying me. It makes me even angrier that I’ve finally found a little bit of peace in my world and then something has to come around and jeopardize it. Angry that it’s another one of “life’s little tests” and quite honestly, I’m sick of those. I’ve been tested enough. Just leave me alone for a little while. I’ve learned to like happy. I want to experience more of that. And how will I feel on Monday when the doctor says I’m all clear or that the issue is minimal and can be fixed quite easily? Will that make me even angrier that I’ve wasted all of this time, energy, and mental power worrying about it?
If I didn’t care, I wouldn’t be so angry. I guess my anger proves my fight. You don’t give up on something that makes you angry. You beat it or you find a way around it, but you don’t give up on it. It’s like I told the technician today doing my scan, “I’ve got way too much to do to be sick.” And you know, maybe that’s what these tests were to teach me. Is it possible that I was starting to take happiness for granted? That I needed something to make me realize what I might possibly have to lose and how badly I was willing to fight for those things? Is it possible that this will give new meaning and passion to the things I love and enjoy? All I know is that I want the chance to find out.