It's raining again

It’s Monday, and it’s raining today.  Not a warm, spring rain.  It’s cold again, and it’s windy.

The weather suits how I am feeling today.  Tired, and with a feeling of nervousness and dread in the pit of my stomach.  It’s because I have an ultrasound coming up this week.  My doctor ordered it as a result of some abnormal lab results as well as symptoms I mentioned. 

I have been through this before.  In the last two years, I have had 5 scans, 5 ultrasounds, one major surgery, and 4 other procedures.  Only a few of them were disastrous, but that has been enough to make me literally sick when anything to do with the medical system comes up.  When I am scheduled for a test, I can’t sleep, I can’t eat, I can’t concentrate, I can’t enjoy my family or friends or a sunny day, I can’t even watch T.V. or read a book.  My body clenches up and won’t relax until I know the result.

I try to breathe and meditate.  I try to concentrate on my singing bowl.  I try to reflect on the words of Sri Chinmoy.  This helps a little bit.

I am worried about Wednesday’s tests because of the abnormal lab results.  It is still possible that it could be nothing.  It is also possible that it could be cancer.  The same one or another one.  My specialist was not overly concerned that it was the same one, but she said that my family doctor should do a “work-up”.  At first I was reassured, but then I realized that all she was saying was that this is not her area of responsibility and referring me back to my family doctor.  The medical field is as big a bureaucracy as anything else.

It could be things in between.

I don’t what it is, and I am trying not to worry.  My family and friends don’t want me to worry.  My parents worry more when I worry.  But not worrying at moments like this is a skill that I have not yet mastered through this whole ordeal.  How does one not worry in theses situations?  Who doesn’t worry?   I want some names.

I try not to show my worry 90 percent of the time – at work, in front of my kids and parents, in social situations.  It comes out at night when I am briefly alone with Jaime or when I am in bed, unable to sleep.  I am letting it come out here, because this is one of the reasons for my blog.

I prepare for impending disaster.  I abandon my multi-grain bread and almond butter in favour of soft white bread and butter that will go down easier.  I make a strategic plan for taking Ativan.  Do I need it most now or after the test, when I am waiting for a phone call, that could come at any time, with the result?  Do I take an Ativan before the test or do I try to keep my head clear and alert to read the possible signs that the technician may give me?  I don’t think I can do that.  An ultrasound was one of my most traumatic moments.  The one which was looking more closely at what was thought to be a fibroid and then wasn’t.  The technician kept looking and looking and pushing down.  She changed me to another machine.  Then she called a doctor in to have a look.  The doctor looked, nodded at her, but did not say anything to me or even meet my eyes.  He left wordlessly.  I blurted out to the technician, “Is it cancer?  Please tell me what you are seeing.  I am getting so scared.”  She didn’t know how to respond, mumbling something about how we can’t know for sure through imaging.  But I knew that they thought it might be cancer.  I was shaking when I came out of the room.

I’ve had good tests too since then, but it hasn’t all been clear and smooth sailing since either.  So I don’t know what to expect.  My emergency preparedness instincts kick in.  I prepare for the worst. 

I try to let myself hope for the best.