I'd hoped if I slept on it I might be a little less crazy but erm apparently not! I am somewhat proud of myself for being able to talk myself out of a panic attack before it took over (and anyone at work could notice) but I am still no less convinced of new and scary lumps and bumps on my body. Little red dots that I've had for years are now getting an eagle-eyed inspection and the lump in my neck which I'm now 5% sure is a tumour, 70% sure is my voice box, 10% sure is my lymph nodes and 15% sure is my tonsils (not that I've spent my morning distracted by this quandry while working or anything) is painful because I keep feeling it.
Is it actually that in all cancer diagnosis cases they tell you it may not be curable or am I just extra special in the lymphoma group that either the treatment will clear it up or it'll come back and become a chronic thing with bouts of chemo and radiotherapy? On the one hand the literature is very informative and helpful and on the other it's a rather frightening read in places and I'm fairly certain I can't follow the 'Joey from Friends' route and put all my cancer books in the freezer. Well, I could but I don't think it would make me any less stress-faced.
Cancer is suddenly everywhere too. Was it always there? Even when my mother in law was ill I don't remember seeing so much about cancer. The TV is now the enemy, taunting me with documentaries about terminal cancer and I can't stand it despite knowing that this is NOT what is happening to me. I am NOT terminally ill. Infact as far as I can tell I'm not ill at all, except in a over-tired, over-stressed, ridiculously neurotic sort of a way!
A friend of mine this morning told me that staying positive was nearly as powerful as any drug out there and whilst I imagine that isn't strictly true, I do believe having determination and a positive outlook does help and is something I'm normally good at. Actually, in all fairness, if you were stood face to face with me now you'd see a woman with a reasonable looking (albeit a little fake) smile on her face). I got dressed, I went to work, I have done my hair. This basically makes me fully functioning and a fun factory of responsible smiley-ness. Now, if we can establish the required look on my face, we need to get the message to my head that it needs to follow suit and cheer the bloody hell up.
I know it'll take time but I am rather inpatient (though I hide it so well right?) and I get sick of myself when I'm not happy so I need to snap out of it fast before I start contemplating hitting my head off the nearest radiator (it'll be cold as it's summer) to bang some shiny smiles back into myself.
I'm sure I'm mainly writing this blog now to reaffirm to myself that it isn't as bad as it feels. This might be a one off and if it's not, well I suppose at least I'll have plenty more to write about. I have my splendid Macmillan binder now (thanks to Laura on admin) and I'm busy organising my information, appointments etc. I now just need to get a handle on my imagined symptoms.
Note to Lottie's brain: These are your other organs speaking. We think you need an intervention. Whilst you do have lymphoma, these are just a collection of small lumps on the skin. The skin isn't feeling sad about this; it's taken its new lumpy bumpy features in its stride. The tumours you think you have in your neck and tummy would have shown up on a CT scan and are likely to either be absolutely nothing or parts of yourself that had already been there already. Jabbing your throat/tummy/body is just making it angry and painful and you could do without falling out with any of them since the lymph system is still having a massive strop.
Whilst we understand you are frightened, it isn't useful for you to paralyse the rest of us with fear every few hours and, unless you failed not notify the other organs, we're pretty sure you aren't psychic nor do you have the ability to time travel so the constant obsessing over the future is definitely counter-productive.
Finally, we accept that you are doing your best to warn us of potential risks and illnesses but backache normally means you've pulled a muscle, not that you've got cancer in your kidney. Pins and needles are a side effect of stress (especially when you only get them when you think about them). You might feel short of breath (but you're asthmatic for crikey's sake - get the arms and the mouth in on the inhaler action and you'll be fine. Overall, please cheer up. We know what's happening to us is horrible and frightening for us and the other people around us but you've got so much to live for and so much to enjoy. Don't let this black spot on an otherwise lovely life ruin things. You're a fighter. Get your arse (not literally) in gear and get back to beating this thing back into oblivion!
