Spinning The Wheel

so i know i have told you about the surgeries that i have gone through - they're like hairdressers the way they seem so eager to cut me open and take things out - but there's this thing that hangs over my head. these doctors, they keep calling me in every few months, looking for something new to remove. every four months there is a tiresome process. i call and make an appointment to spend an hour listening to music in a claustrophobic tube, while techs perform an mri of various parts of my torso. i find it a great time to catch up on a little sleep up until they start giving you these crazy breathing instructions:
breathe in
breathe out
breathe in
breathe out...
and stop breathing. don't take a breath.

and just when you think you will explode

okay breathe normally

which really means gasp for breath and take in all you can before the crazy instructions kick in again.

so, after the mri is taken, there is the round of doctors' appointments - a minimum of two. you spend way too much time in the waiting room wondering why doctors can always be late but you never can and trying to find something interesting to read while wondering why you forgot to bring a book or something to write on. did i mention that all my appointments are at a cancer centre? what does that mean? not that i have cancer because i don't have cancer - my doctors tell me all the time that i don't have cancer (and that is a great relief). what i have is niggly things that insist on taking advantage of my apparently fertile insides and just growing willy-nilly. anyhoo, what it does mean is that i spend time with incredible women who have to wait for late doctors and strike up conversations along the lines of a shoplifter who finds themselves in prison with hard-core criminals:

so, i had surgery for breast cancer but i'm doing so much better now. i can't believe the doctors are so late. what are you in for?

oh, um, you know, just some irregular tissue. ahem.

it is almost a relief when i get to see the doctor. until the doctor tells me that i'm not all clear and that i need to come back. or that there is something else that they see but it's in a different part of my body from their speciality and i have to see a different specialist.

it's endless but i have realised that half the battle is admitting that there is a problem. i have to admit the toll this endless cycle of scans and doctors' appointments is having on my psyche. if i admit that sitting in waiting rooms and waiting to find out whether or not someone is planning on cutting into me and taking 3 months of recovery time away from me is stressing me out, perhaps that will help me better deal with it all. maybe taking time to say, i'm pandave and all of this gets to me and puts me on hold, that will help me take a look at all of this as a mere hiccup and not a time to grind my teeth and bite my tongue in my sleep.

most of all, maybe an embrace of the stress will keep my brain ticking and me doing what i love and enjoy and not just plugging through life and doing what i have to do. seriously, if i'm going to do what i need to in order to pay my rent and keep from being evicted, i sure as heck better be doing things that make me laugh and keep me alive!!!