Last week, I received some good news and some bad news. And this week, I got good news and bad news.
Which do you want to hear first?
Okay, the good news. My acupuncturist, Dr. Wang (hee hee) called me, right in the middle of a migraine. I’m convinced that he not only has mystical Eastern powers of the Chi but he’s also psychic. He left a message on my cell ask how I was (how did he know?) and for me to call him back. When I got in touch with him, he told me I was in a new cycle of insurance and he could treat me. Make an appointment, he said.
I saw him this Wednesday. Not a moment too soon..there was rain in the forecast for this week.
While he was looking under my tongue and in my eyes, he explained that he called my insurance again that day and they changed the policy- I know have unlimited acupuncture treatment! Good news! I can see him once a week and keep these damned migraines at bay. And since I haven’t been to his office in a long while, he added extra needles- in that little space right in front of my ear. Ew.
Now I’ll (hopefully) be migraine free for the fall, when they hit hardest. This summer hasn’t been too kind, either, with all the freakish storms (can you say HAIL?) we’ve had. This is good news.
So, for the bad news.
Remember that UTI I had at the beginning of my mini vacation at the beach house? I had gone to the gynecologist to get tested and get some antibiotics. I didn’t realize that I hadn’t had a checkup in three years- I usually try to schedule a lady checkup and a mammogram in April, using my birthday as a reminder. Time got away from me…been kind of busy in the last three years…
I did the whole gyno routine- PAP, breast exam, pelvic exam- while talking to the doctor about vacations and marriage. I walked away from there confident I was in good health. I felt good, my periods were normal and except for a few bouts of EXTREME PMS (should be a new reality show) I didn’t think about the exam for a few weeks.
Until I got a call from Dr. S. personally.
Seems my PAP came back with abnormalities. Seems I have to go for a colopscopy. Seems there are things that shouldn’t be where they are.
This is bad news.
He wanted me to come in the following week for the follow-up tests. When he asks me if I have any questions, I go completely blank and mute. When I finally get my heart out of my throat, I tell him no, and make an appointment.
I call MR right away and we furiously start Googling abnormal PAP tests. Probably not a good idea. Seems these things can pop out in times of stress. It’s been three VERY stressful years since my last test. The more reading I do, the more convinced I become that I’ve got something to worry about. Was three years too long for them to catch anything? This past week, I’ve been even more stressed. And depressed. I didn’t tell anyone for a week, then finally opened up to one of my CAFM teammates, the one who calls me “mom” . Since her mom is a billion miles away in South America she’s confided in me about all sorts of personal stuff, and I do the same with her because she’s not only smart, she’s compassionate. She eased my mind temporarily about the whole situation and I was able to sleep that night.
Then I had my appointment.
The nurse explained the procedure, assuring me the test was updated and minimally invasive. She asked me some routine questions, gave me a gown to put on and left me to change.
And wait. And think. And stew.
Dr. S. came in and again asked if I had any questions (I didn’t. I had the internets at my fingertips). He scooted me to the end of the table and told me to put my blue feet in the stirrups (my toenails are metallic blue…) . I’ll spare you the details of the actual exam because 1) my dad reads this blog faithfully and 2) my kids hate all things genitalia. So, while he was poking around, he had a lively conversation with the nurse about iPods, iPads and vacations. I tried to follow the conversation, but I was a little preoccupied. He got my attention when he said he found something at 3 o’clock and 7 o’clock.
Whoa. My vagina tells time?
He scraped and prodded and poked and gave the nurse the samples in clockwise order. When they were packed up and ready to go, he sat me up and tried to explain the concept of the clock-face…blah, blah, blah. I cut him off, asking him what he found. He must have seen the sheer terror on my face because he patted me on the knee and said that we’ll know by Friday, and don’t worry, I don’t have Cancer.
Um, could I get a guarantee on that? Please?
Just saying the C-word out loud caused me to burst into tears. Thankfully, the Doctor and nurse had made a hasty exit. I needed to dry my tears and get the hell out of here. I met MR in the waiting room and couldn’t speak until we got out of the building.
Promising words. He gave me promising words. Then why do I feel like there are butterflies fluttering in my chest? Why am I hiding in my house, too scared to go out, too scared to talk to anyone, to scared to bring to life the fears I have? I was a recluse the whole weekend, not going out unless MR went with me, cleaning and scrubbing and putting together all the niggling mindless little craft projects I’ve been meaning to get to. Jumping from one project (sewing) to another (cleaning and rearranging Z-girl’s room) and hiding from the world, just needing to sleep, but not being able to with all those thoughts zooming around my head.. Knowing what agoraphobia feels like, because going to work on Monday was extremely hard. Actually stepping out of the house took all my resolve.
I’m better today. Talking with a friend actually helped (duh!) and I didn’t sound like a blithering crybaby when I did. I went through three file cabinets of work going back to 2003 and I threw that shit out with gusto. I cleaned my desk and organized a few shelves and felt that if God does decide to take me, no one at work will say “what the f*ck was she keeping this crap for?”
I jest, of course. Kind of.
I’ll try to be strong until I get the phone call giving me my results. And I’ll try to be strong after I hear the options on how to deal with those results. And I’ll try to be strong if I need to deal with those options because I can’t suffer another lost weekend. My family will never forgive me if I leave them my home office to clean out.
Send a little good karma my way, please? Pray to your gods- I’m praying to mine.
And ten points to whomever can tell me where the title of this post comes from.
Cross your fingers…