Not a Good Day

Today was hard. it sucked to be honest.

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It’s been a week exactly since I was diagnosed with Cancer. And it will be another 2.5 weeks before I get in to see the specialist at UT Southwestern… and who knows how much longer after that before surgery.

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The thing is… I’ve been dealing with all of the physical crap for over a year now, and I’m tired. I’d sort of assumed last year that this was going to end up being Cancer in the end… so maybe that’s why it didn’t hit me right away.

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But today… from the moment I woke up I just kept… breaking down. I’d be fine one minute and then in tears, sobbing, the next. I kept having to leave my desk, run to the restroom… try and cry as quietly as I could.

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And I wanted to so badly to just… pack it up and go home. I just want to crawl into bed and not come out again until the 12th. I can’t handle people. I don’t have the energy for rude customers, and my kind coworkers just seem to make me cry more for some reason.

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I’m so scared that they’re going to tell me it’s not just in my uterus. I’m so scared they’re going to tell me that it’s spread. That surgery won’t be enough. It’s not just my lower abdomen that’s been in pain, that’s been in discomfort.

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Dr. Daros said if I’m still in enough pain that I need the meds every 4 hours… I should go to the ER at Presby and have them do a ct scan. Fortunately, today I did get some relief from the pain. But I’m still so fucking uncomfortable… and the distension in my lower belly seems to be rising to my upper abdomen, to the lower parts of my chest. And I’m scared of what that could mean.

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I just want this all to be over. I want it done so that I can take my 4-6 weeks of recuperation and just rest. I need to reset myself. God, if I thought I could afford it—I would take these two weeks off leading up to that appointment and rest now. I don’t have the energy or the patience to deal with work. I just don’t. All day I just wanted to scream at people: Your priorities are fucking ridiculous! I HAVE FUCKING CANCER AND I DON’T GIVE A FUCK ABOUT YOUR CAR.

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But I can’t. Because I need to be employed. Because I need insurance. Because I have Cancer.

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And I thought about making a therapy appointment. :shrug: But what can she tell me that I don’t already know? What can she say that I haven’t tried to tell myself already? Would it be weird to just ask her to… I don’t know— hold me while I cried about it? I fought myself all day today… because I just wanted to ask someone, anyone, to pull me into that spare office and close the door and just hug me until I could stop crying. But I thought it would be weird. So I just… shuffled myself to a cold bathroom stall and sobbed. Because I’m not numb about it anymore. Because now it hurts. Now it’s scary. Now it’s real, and not getting fixed fast enough and I can’t handle that constant thought, “I have Cancer. I have Cancer. I have Cancer. I have Cancer.”

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Today was not a good day.