So, tonight I had meltdown number two. No tears, but very near a true, diagnosable panic attack. My best friend Candy was the lucky one who witnessed my first (and so far only) true panic attack, so she will know what Jason was dealing with tonight. I'll have to tell about the first one sometime, it was a doozie. Though, Candy could probaby tell it better! :)
I have my post-op appointment at 9:30 in the morning. Last time, the post-op was kind of anti-climatic. He basically just touched all around the incision and looked at my vocal chords (which was weird), and listened to my chest. That was it-he didn't have the full results, so there wasn't much discussion. It wasn't until 2 days later when he called me that everything became more serious. I left that appointment feeling a little swindled out of $25, no idea what was coming. I mean the preliminary pathology was clear, statistics were on my side, this was nothing, right?
Fast forward 3 weeks to today, exactly one week post-op (2nd surgery). My incision has been hurting these past 2 days-really kind of burning, a little itchy. Bothersome, but not lay in the bed bad. Well, last night it kept me awake until 3 am. Long about 1am when the rest of the house was asleep, I started worrying about this pain, that is so different from last time (which is totally what the doctor told me to expect, but it's 1 am, I'm not even close to logical). I got it into my head that the incision is infected. When I woke up after spending my first night at home, (so last Friday), I noticed that I thought my incision had bled some during the night. Nothing major, not outside the surgical tape, just enough to make it look even grosser than it already was. Friday, thought nothing of it. Throughout the course of the day, got worried that it was significant. Have totally convinced myself that it's infected and they're going to have lance it or drain it or whatever else disgusting they do to infections. Keep in mind, I show absolutely no signs of infection-it's not swollen or oozing or red. I don't have a fever, it doesn't smell, nothing-this is all in the lovely little playground that is my head.
Bottom line: I am terrified that something is going to go wrong in that appointment tomorrow. That my incision is going to be infected or something else related to that, that the pathology report will again NOT be there because they had to send it to Johns Hopkins (again), that he's going to say he now needs to remove some lymph nodes, something.
I gotta be honest, I have used up all my big girl. Every single drop. If I go in there tomorrow and he says nothing short of "All clear. Let's talk about the radiated iodine" I am going to lose it. And in a big way. Like they'll have to call Jason to come get me, nurses will have to restrain me, they have to give me a shot of morphine, bad.
Throughout this whole saga, I have downplayed this. It has been downplayed by the doctors. This is the cancer you pick off the list. Totally treatable, you don't die from this, treatment is relatively easy and fast. Great prognosis, I'm young, blah, blah, blah. I don't know if you noticed but I said this is the cancer you pick off the list. C-A-N-C-E-R. While I still maintain that I technically don't have it anymore since it was surgically removed, it doesn't change the fact that it was in there. I had cancer.
I am freaking out.
I will forever have to put this on forms, check this on boxes. My kids will need to know this because they now have family history of cancer. This will change how I am treated medically for the rest of my life. This is a big deal.
Now, what's happened to the Apinis family has put my problems in perspective for me and has helped me keep my cool. But, as my mother reminded me tonight, just because someone else is going through something bad, doesn't mean that my thing is any less bad. There's no way to compare bad things-they're all just bad and no one wants it to happen to them.
Now, does this mean that I'm losing faith? I think it's a testament to my faith that I've been able to keep it together this long, honestly. I know God is soveriegn. I can list you all the ways that I see his hand in this situation. But I'm still in this situation. That this is my new reality is what is hitting me so hard tonight. When we join a new small group and we tell our stories, mine is now going to include the time that I had cancer. Totally weird.
Now you're going to wonder why Jason isn't going with me to the appointment. Don't be mad at him. I don't want him to come. If he comes, it's because it's bad. If he doesn't come, I can at least have the illusion that this is just routine, that nothing significant will happen tomorrow.
My mind is weary. I want my normal life back. I'm tired of being "recovery Allison". Now I have "radioactive Allison" to look forward to.
Jason has prayed with me and my mom has talked me down off the ledge (though I think I half dragged her out onto the ledge with me). I'm hopeful that I'll be able to sleep tonight, although right now sleep seems a long way away.
To end on a positive note, tomorrow I will become a full Forsyth County Kool-Aid drinker. Not only do I live in Forsyth County (cause the taxes are so much cheaper), and drive a Honda Odyssey (the vehicle of choice in Cumming!), but as of tomorrow, I will be (drum roll please) a soccer mom.
(With cancer.)
Sorry, that was a major buzz kill. But you were warned in the title. I'm kinda freakin' out.
I'll post after my appointment, if I'm still coherent.
No comments:
Post a Comment