After a whole day of watching the clock at work and an hour of sitting in the exam room waiting for my oncologist who was running terribly behind, I was finally greeted with the news:
Well you had your scans and everything came out okay...
...and then he kept going on about something, but all I could say was, "Wait, back up. What was that?"
The one spot on my lung is exactly the same as it was just about a year ago. If it had been cancerous, it would have changed size one way or another. But it's exactly the same. They'll be checking it again in another year. Well, it was supposed to be every six months, but the doc said because it's so small (4mm) and insignificant, they'd put it off for another year. Yay! I think I'm going to push it back to the following January though so I can bypass the extra unneeded holiday-time stress.
Everything looks great. Well, except for my weight, which he didn't even bring up - I did. I told him I'm looking forward to getting this extra weight off, to which he replied, "Just be aware that it's harder to lose weight when you're on Tamoxifen. Give it a good try though!" Ugh! Now it's time to go all Han Solo on him and this fat.
So it's all good. It's time for me to get through this week and next and kiss this year goodbye!
I had my 6-month scans on Friday. A mammogram and a CT scan, both quick and easy (much unlike my time at the mall in Milwaukee in-between visits), and I was done. Results to be learned at my doctor's appointment on Tuesday afternoon.
I didn't think too much about them over the weekend, which is amazing considering I really didn't do anything over the weekend other than apply for a job or two with my rear end firmly planted in my recliner. Today is a different story though.
Today the What If Monster has reared his ugly head again. You know, I really wish I knew how to kill this guy - or at least subdue him. I've tried using logic, knowing that it's only been 6 months since I ended chemo, I've been on tamoxifen since September which is even more effective in suppressing the cancer than the chemo. There's no reason why anything new should pop up. I know this, but I'm still anxious.
I guess it's that dang CT scan. When I first had it done, there were two tiny things that popped up that the doctors weren't concerned about. One was a tiny triangular spot on my lung, that they determined at the time was some sort of scarring. From what, I don't know, but they didn't think it was anything bad. Another was a small something on my liver. Again, they gathered that it was something like a cyst or something similar and nothing dangerous. All of my doctors saw the results, told me not to worry about them because CT scans show EVERYTHING whether it's bad or not, and said we'd only have to look at them two more times down the road just to make sure.
Enter the What If Monster...
I didn't realize this was a real thing. It's a children's book. Maybe I need it.
Just to make sure? Aren't you sure now? What if they came to the wrong conclusion? What if it turns out that spot on my lung was really cancer? What if the whatever it is on my liver turns out to be something worse than a cyst? What if the cancer ended up spreading and now I only have a year to live?
OH MY GOD, SHUT UP!!!!
Is it always going to be like this? Every time I'm waiting for test results? I can't live like this - with this anxiety every time I'm uncertain about something. I think the fact that I was so sure that I was fine around this time last year only to find out how wrong I really was has turned me against my own sense of reason. Am I going to be dwelling on this until tomorrow at 4pm? Maybe I should just shut myself in a room away from other people until then.
Can someone please kill this monster - or fix my brain?
Well, I finally decided it was time, and thanks to Victoria's Secret's helpful bra-fitting tool, measured myself to get a new bra. Men of the world, rejoice! You've got another woman in the world who wears a D cup. Now I just have to get used to wearing one of these for over 8 hours a day again.
Okay, I've been cleared for exercise. I am soooo happy because all of this extra poundage has got to go. This is just about the heaviest I've ever been. No bones about it, I am fat.
Hoooooo!
People can look at me and tell me I'm not, and it's nice of them to want to make me feel better, but I'm not fishing for compliments. I know the numbers on the scale and the size of my pants. I know I've gained a huge amount of weight over this year and now I know it's time to take it off.
There's only one problem.
Sloth Mode
It's December, it's cold, it's always dark outside. I have no energy and I just want to sleep.
Oh, I started out with a bang. I exercised 3 out of the 4 mornings that I was on my excursion to Texas. I was on a treadmill and I honestly didn't mind because the surroundings were new. Sure, I felt a little intimidated when members of a college football team were in there at the same time, but I was finally back at it and it felt great!
My friend, the Texas treadmill
So, I decided that when I got back from Texas, I'd start getting up at 5am again and start doing FocusT25 again to kick my own ass. Yup - me and Shaun T were gonna be morning buddies again.
My friend, Shaun T
And then the morning came and the 5:00 alarm went off and I turned it off and rolled over and went back to sleep. Fail #1. When I did finally get up, I resolved to hop on the treadmill when I got home from work to at least do something. And I did. It was sad and pathetic, but I did. And I swore that I'd get up and start Focus T25 the next morning (today).
And then the morning came and my alarm didn't go off. Fail #2. (We spilled water on it yesterday. We thought it was fine, but...guess not.) So I've resolved to get on the treadmill when I get home from work to at least do something.
I'm wondering how long this trend will go on. I can't let it. I have to get from Sloth Mode into Beast Mode pronto or I will have no right to complain. At. All.
Errr.... More along the lines of this:
Tomorrow, I resolve to get up at 5:00 am and hang out with my friend, Shaun T. I will be cold, I will be tired, but I will get up and sweat and swear at my out-of-shape body and it will be glorious because I will know that I'm actually doing something again.
I'll let you know if the beast or the sloth shows up in the morning.
I never thought I'd actually be happy about putting on an underwire bra again. It's on, but it certainly doesn't fit right. Looks like my next purchase will be a new over the shoulder boulder holder.
