10 days my arse! It's been 17 days since the breast clinic. The MDT meetings happen on a Monday. And it was bank holiday Monday so no MDT meeting. Why are y’all taking days off when I’m sat here going out of my mind!
Time has literally gone in slow motion. I’m necking Propranolol like they are going out of fashion. I feel like a zombie. I’m thinking the worst then being very optimistic. I’m having dreams about losing my hair. Do other people have fears of fighting for their life? All I’m bothered about is my bloody hair. If anything, this last 2 weeks has told me is that I’m vain as fuck. I haven’t googled survival rates, or the chances or spread or coming back. I just want to know what my head will look like. Have a word with yourself.
I’ve had to hold back going full on psycho at every person who asked ‘any news’. What did people ring and text me about 4 weeks ago? Have they always asked me that? I have literally only told my close family and 2 friends. Those people know they are in the circle of trust. They know that I’m up to my eyeballs in anxiety medication and pacing my house like some kind of caged bear. Yet ‘any news’ is the only thing they have to say.
I’ve never felt so abandoned these last few weeks. Being told this news then just being sent on my way felt like a punishment. Because I had no information, questions couldn’t be answered.
Anyway. They called today. I’m back to see the consultant tomorrow! Holy crap. Now I’m wishing they hadn’t rang.
