Another appointment
I have seen more medical people in the last month than I did in the whole of the last six years!And I cannot say that I am any happier or healthier for it. And although I have a lot of new information jostling around in my skull ( Medical History Made! Unwanted cells in brain 'pushed out' by information overload!) not a great deal of new knowledge.
And I have heard two doctors say 'I don't know' this week. Today I am going for three.
Yesterday was lung surgeon who was polite about my 'no surgery now' stand but is still pushing for time and tests.
Today is brain surgeon and I am hoping he will fully identify with my concerns about the difference each day makes in my physical condition. I have this secret hope that he holds power of veto over all the others so if he sees reason to panic (or at least, move quickly) everyone else will fall in line. OR he will be able to explain to me WHY we should put my brain and paralysis on hold while we determine if the mass in the lung is malignant. What difference does it make. And why I should not panic.
I have been dealing with all this for about six, eight weeks, no matter what anything is or is not, there is a long road ahead of me.
None of it is take a pill, be better in ten days. And while I can consider the road back to normal ( or near normal if nerves are permanently damaged) with a fair degree of equanimity I am going to start losing it if someone doesn't give me a bloody signpost soon!
My sister cannot stay here to drive me indefinitely. I need to organise what will happen to the on going aspects of my job. I have to make alternative arrangements for cooking for my mother once my sister goes back home. And stupid mundane things like washing dishes or my hair have become major undertakings. And my hair is short!
Okay, I have ALREADY started losing it. I accept that I am doing the best I can - and this old old voice I thought I had put to rest is screeching "there must be more you can do, something you've forgotten" Nothing like a couple of tumours to resurrect old demons!
The stress associated with the peripherals of disease is phenomenal and largely unaddressed by the doctors I have met. One really good thing, I have managed to convert from private patient, bleeding money, to using the National Health Service I pay for every paycheck. The referral to the lung doc starts a new phase so I could change status.
The other thing that is tough. I m used to being nose to nose with my mortality. I am on fairly easy terms with death, zen helps with that, but i talk casually about something that really does not rock my world right now. Then I see the horror in my mother's eyes. Her fear. And I get angry. Because I cannot fix this for her. Or for anyone. I can't fix this for me.
I look into the mirror and I wonder. Do they communicate? These cells wrenching my life to a brand new track? I look the same, a little tired maybe, till I move and i can tell, where you might not, where the rhythm and the flow is slightly out of cadence, missing, adding beats a stumble on the turn, fumble on the grasp that turns perfection into damaged, in need of work, of help, of healing.
Right now, it is raining and I need to walk outside and cry.
Comments (2)
I am glad to hear that you come to terms with mortality and I hope that your calmness will help your mother. I really don't know what to say... I just want to say hi
Jesse