Don't Point Your Tears at Me

I get my blood tests on Friday hopefully. The anxiety of wondering whether there's something wrong with me is not particularly pleasant but I am at least well versed enough in this area to know that if there is something, worrying about it won't undo it and I suppose knowing is better than not if something can be done. All easily said but not terribly easy to follow my own advice at times. Yesterday saw the return of the sympathy squeezers too. It wasn't intentional but I've managed to ignore someone I vaguely know since all this started. The blunt truth is that I felt beyond lousy and didn't prioritise replying to his messages. Anyhoo another arrived yesterday and I felt awful for essentially blanking another perfectly nice human being with no explanation so I gave him one. I explained that I found out I had cancer and the following months were a right off. Selfishly I thought he decided to tell me he was crying. I'd have patience with this except that we have barely spoken in the last 7 years so his 'anguish' wasn't so much touching as really bloody irritating. Phrases popped up in his questions like 'battling cancer' and 'bad things happen to good people'. I honestly couldn't work out if this was supposed to make me feel better or lead me to believe he was the most caring person that ever lived. Either way it failed. I managed to keep my sarcasm under control and did the usual, now well rehearsed speech about how I would be fine; yes it might return over and over but rarely does it become aggressive, no lymphoma isn't breast cancer and no I don't have a plan. At his talk of battling cancer and making a plan to tackle it I was rather compelled to ask him if his advice to me was to challenge my deformed cells to a duel but thought better of it in the end. I guess this is just what happens when people find out further down the line.