I was fortunate to have a grandmother who loved me unconditionally. She was always there to spoil me and help me feel safe and loved throughout a tumultuous childhood. It was tough on my heart when she died, but I’ve always felt she stayed close. It’s a part of life to learn about our faults and hopefully, improve on them. I tend towards procrastination and as I grew older and tried harder to remedy that fault I’d often hear her whisper to me “It’s a 1000 times worse thinking about doing something then it is to just do it.” I started to apply her words to many things in life and found to no great surprise, that of course, she was right. Sometimes you just need to take a small bit of action in the direction you need to go and things will start to fall into place. I think some people might call that doing it one small step at a time. I call it “folding the fitted sheets first.” Who loves to fold those suckers? They never leave me with the same sense of control and satisfaction as well-behaved flat sheets with their right angles and smooth, precise finish. Nope, no matter how many Martha Stewart clips you watch on YouTube, there is really no way to walk away with the same sense of control and smug self-satisfaction you can get from a calm flat sheet, or better yet a pillow case! Now those babies are satisfying. That’s why I fold the fitted sheets first. I’ve trained myself to get the harder stuff out-of-the-way. Ask me good news or bad news? I want the bad news first. Until this past week that is. I’m starting to rethink my “hard stuff first” philosophy.
In Cancerland, my trip to the emergency room didn’t register. It was nada, so small in the scheme of things as to hardly constitute a roughness in the pavement. There are so many more of my fellow cancer friends who have it much worse right now. But it sobered me. It was a reminder of how close to the edge I’m living and how quickly things can turn into a non-stop avalanche. One day you’re dancing and celebrating with friends and loved ones and the next you’re close to being admitted because your white blood cell count could be non-existent and you have nothing in you to fight back with. Thankfully, my counts were low, but not dangerously low. It was a reminder that I need to be more careful about what I expose myself to and what my immune system can handle. It was a scary experience for Steve and me. I think we both were wondering if this was the start of a downhill slide. How many more trips like this will there be? Just normal fears when you have cancer. Sometimes they linger in your peripheral vision, hovering around like gnats on a spring night. You know they’re there, but you don’t always take the time to stare them down, that is, until they fly up your nose.
To add to the stress, its my week for scanxiety. I had my PET scan today to see if the cancer has spread, or if the Ibrance is working and holding things at bay. Every time I lay in that machine and it scans up and down my body I’m thinking “find it, don’t let it hide, if it’s there I want it found.” Because of course, I like to know what I’m dealing with. Unfortunately, I’ll have to wait a few more days for those results. After the last couple of days I’m thinking I should throw caution to the wind and fold the flat sheets first. Heck, I might even start wadding those unmanageable fitted sheets up into a ball and calling it good.
Disclaimer: Chemo brain is in full effect, along with a bit of dizziness from my current drugs. I guarantee there are punctuation and spelling errors. I did try and proofread. So be kind and ignore them. 🙂