It Never Ends

It’s been awhile since I’ve posted, but I think now is as good a time as any.

Other than the usual day to day shit, this week has (and will continue to be), one for the books.  An ulceration opened on my left breast the other day.  That meant an immediate trip to my GP.  After looking at it, he sent me to a breast surgeon.

Surgeon?  WTF?  The last thing in the world I’ll do is more surgery but, like a good little patient, off I went yesterday with Mom in tow.

Come to find out, the lymph nodes in my left armpit are swollen, tender, and have lumps.  So does the breast.  Instead of just making an educated guess (and going with her gut), now I have to have an MRI.  Tomorrow is the mammo/bone density/ultrascan.  Along with the bruising and overwhelming tiredness, what does that tell you?  Yes... cancer.  It could also be the autoimmune disease kicked into high gear.  Given my choice, I’ll take cancer.  At least that can be treated.  The other can’t be checked, treated, or even understood.  I don’t have a chance with that one.  I also got to read the hospital report from the intestines blowing.  Guess what? I also have COPD and heart, liver, and pancreatic disease.  Why I was never told is beyond me; I was shocked to learn all this.  I’m a fucking medical miracle to still be upright and somewhat functional.

Thursday, I have to go to court.  That’ll be another stressful day.  So I’ve decided that come Friday, I’m officially on vacation.  I’m locking the doors, not putting a stitch on (like I wear clothes much anyway), drinking coffee, watching all the crappy TV I want, and spinning and knitting when I feel Iike it.  I think I may take the next week off, too, since it’s the only week with nothing in it.  I need the rest, and I need the solitude.

Right now, all I feel is numb.  I don’t know if it’s my brain’s way of dealing with everything, if I’m overwhelmed, or what’s going on.  I do know that I don’t feel anything - no emotional turmoil, no noticeable stress, nothing.  It’s like I’m in The Twilight Zone in some truly bizarre episode.  Thank god I have my babies; they’re a huge comfort to me.  Roxy has been jumping into bed with me every night, carefully inspecting my face (why, I don’t have a clue), and then laying her head or cheek on mine, and we both fall asleep together like that.  Her gentle snoring lulls me into sleep, and the weight and warmth of her are so... wonderful.  She’s an 80 lb. lump of love and concern.  Millie is... Millie.  She likes to wriggle on her side until she’s wrapped around my ankle, lay on her back, wiggle all over, wave her paws in the air, and is so funny that she always makes me laugh.  When I do, she’s even more energetic in her antics.  I think that’s her way of making Mommy happy, and it works.

So now I’m off to start drinking my second pot of coffee, watch Judge Judy, and maybe attack the other half of the French dip I’ve been dreaming of for months (we went to dinner at the hof brau last night; they’re so huge that I brought half of everything home).  Then I’m relaxing.  Enough is enough; my body is seriously damaged and is telling me it’s the day to do NOTHING.

You gotta do what you gotta do...