Warning to all: if you ask me how I am, I will respond honestly. Expect an earful of my medical worries, and of the challenges of waiting for more information. Is Dr. Blood Lite’s recent concern valid? This question will not be answered until next Tuesday morning.
Considering what I was dealing with, I felt that I was holding it together at least somewhat. I wasn’t happy and, in fact, me and my little blue Sadness doll were likely spending an excessive amount of time together on the couch. I also had moments of panic because Chicken Little is my first cousin. After the initial shock passed, I felt I was coming to terms with the fact that my health may be in peril.
Then I got more bad news. Prior to the corkscrew procedure last week, the doctor sent me for blood work, which he reviewed with me before I left. In only a week, my red blood count had dropped significantly, to the point of my potentially needing a transfusion.
These ups and downs in various blood counts are not new. Sometimes the doctors know why and sometimes they don’t. In this case, with so much hanging over me, that little piece of potentially bad news threw me over the edge. I was a basket case for the following few days. A mess. Hopeless and terrified. Many tears were shed between naps.
My discombobulation is a reminder that despite my efforts to prepare myself for whatever may come, when I am truly threatened, all that preparation flies out the window. In this case, when I wasn’t overwhelmed during the day, I had dream after dream of hospitals and illness at night. There was no rest for the very weary.
What I managed to forget was that I don’t cope well emotionally when I’m feeling crummy physically. Because of the anemia, I’m exhausted and all I want to do is sleep. I am also likely dealing with the effects of withdrawal from the chemotherapy Dr. Blood Lite reduced two weeks ago. I recall vividly Dr. Blood telling me long ago that I should stay on it because the side effects of withdrawal are so aversive.
Somehow, Sunday morning at 2 a.m. when I chose insomnia over nightmares, I put one and one together: I realized my moving so quickly from feeling well to feeling sick was not helping my mood one bit. When I woke up Sunday morning, I didn’t have to drag myself out of bed. I made it to yoga, and even stayed awake through not one but two coffee dates later that day. My body did not demand a nap that day, and I felt better on all fronts. Today, despite a sleepless night, I feel even more like myself. Might my anemia be abating? I can only hope.
Sure, I’m still scared of what my little corkscrew procedure will reveal, and I’m expecting a sleepless night next Monday. Still, I can’t imagine feeling worse than I did last week when I could actually see the sky falling. Even if the sky does fall, I expect it will take some time to reach the ground.