Am I really going to blog?: Only one more day of waiting!

Monday, July 1, 2013

Only one more day of waiting!

This is SERIOUSLY.KILLING.ME.

I know that I have PTSD. I know it from the symptoms. I know it from friends. I know it from colleagues who are mental health professionals. I know it from my family practice doctor. Knowing it and coping with it are two worlds apart.

Logical me knows that blips pop up all the time on mammograms and lots of women get called back to find out about a cyst. Or that they inadvertently worn deodorant and that messed up the film making it look like a big black shadow. Or any other number of benign issues.

I KNOW that.

BUT, when I looked at my letter, my first thought was "I am going to die." I haven't been able to shake it either. I did not schedule my over-due hair appointment when I saw my lady last week because what is the point? I look at my daughter and at times I simply cannot breathe.

I don't get good medical news. Just doesn't happen for me. Maybe tomorrow can be a first. Who knows? In the meantime, I am going to count on some pharmaceutical help.

Lori

1 comment:

TraceyAugust 11, 2013 at 7:46 AM
Several years ago, I got that same letter. I had to go back for follow ups, and it was a living nightmare. They did multiple more takes and finally took me in for an ultrasound on my breast where my tears just flowed. Finally the ultrasound tech looked at me and said "you're fine." But it was pure torture. And that was without the PTSD that you carry from what Cameron went through. I'm so sorry that you had this nightmare. I hope you got good news and got to take a good long breath!
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I HOPE....

I hope you never have to hear the words, 'Your child has cancer.'

I hope you never have to hear, 'The prognosis is not good.'

I hope you never have to prepare to undergo radiation or chemotherapy, have a port surgically inserted into their chest, be connected to IV poles. Look at you with fear in their eyes and say, 'Don't worry Mommy, everything will be okay.'

I hope you never have to hold your child as they vomit green bile.

I hope you never have to feed them ice chips for lunch.

I hope you never have to watch the 'cure' you pray for slowly take away their identity, as they lose their hair, become skeletal, swell up from steroids, develop severe acne, become barely or unable to walk or move, and look at you with hope in their eyes and say,'It's going to be okay, Mommy.'

I hope that you never have to stay in the hospital for weeks, months, or years at a time, where there is no privacy, sleeping on a slab, with your face to the wall, where you cry in muffled silence.

I hope you never have to see a mother, alone, huddled, in a dark hospital corridor...crying quietly, after just being told, 'There is nothing more we can do.'

I hope you never have to watch a family wander aimlessly, minutes after their child's body has been removed.

I hope you never have to use every bit of energy you have left, with all of this going on around you to remain positive, and the feelings of guilt, sorrow, hope and fear, overwhelm you.

I hope you never have to see a child's head bolted to the table as they receive radiation.

I hope you never have to take your child home (grateful but so afraid) in a wheelchair because the chemo and radiation has damaged their muscles, 35 pounds lighter, pale, bald, and scarred. And they look at you with faith in their eyes and say, 'It's going to be okay Mommy.'

I hope you never have to face the few friends that have stuck beside you and hear them say, 'Thank God that is over with,'...because you know it never will be. Your life becomes a whirl of doctors, blood tests and MRI's and you try to get your life back to 'normal'. While living in mind-numbing fear that any one of those tests could result in hearing the dreaded words...'The cancer has returned' or 'The tumor is growing.' And your friends become even fewer.

I hope you never have to experience any of these things... Because...only then...Will you understand...

(author unknown)