I went yesterday for my u/s of my supraclavicular nodes.
It looked like this. How the hell can they read that anyway?
It looks like the moon landing.
I took a Xanax before and my heart was still racing.
Al wanted to fly in but my mom said she would go with me and
I wanted to reserve him in case I have cancer and really need support.
I sent Stanley a text saying that I needed him to be available for the kids
‘just in case’ with a brief synopsis of my testing and his response was
“Oh. Good luck.”
He’s just a bucket of moral support isn’t he?
I was more than a little scared.
The tech said that nothing was ‘glaring’ to her but that the
doctor would call me when the radiology report came back.
Oh, and that might be at the end of the week.
I have learned some things while going through this health scare.
- Don’t ask your friends from your oncology days because they feel the need to tell you what they know which is that 90% of supraclavicular nodes are malignant. Then you kind of hate your friends, which isn’t good because they may need to bring food and raise your kids.
- When your sweet boyfriend offers to fly in for support, let him.
- I’ve learned that I’m not scared of being sick at all. I don’t give a shit about myself. I am entirely worried about my kids and how they would manage without me.
Over the last week, even prior to this shit, I have figured out how it works around here with Stanley and the kids. He meets their basic needs; food, water, gets them to school (but often without showers or meds).
I make their lives:
For instance last Wednesday, pre-scare, Stanley was on, his only night last week because he had a beer meeting on Thursday and I agreed to take that night. I got a text from The Boy at 9 pm. saying that he had left a rubric of his 60 word poem at school and needed to look at it one last time to make sure he had done it all correctly. Yes, he sucks to have waited until 9 pm. I said, “I’m not on, you have to ask Daddy to help.” He said, “I did. He yelled at me and slammed the door and I really need this.” My kids are in a magnet school and cannot get a C. If they do, then they can be uninvited which leaves us no option but private school. NOT AN OPTION. So, yes, I go beyond the call of duty to help them get their shit done.
Yes, they know this, they have me by the short hairs.
Of course I texted a friend who took a pic of her kid’s rubric
and texted it to my phone which I sent to The Boy
Stanley cannot problem solve.
He has so few coping tools that first he has to have his reaction.
Usually by the time that’s over, the problem is solved.
Either by a kid or by me.
I’m trying to teach my kids good coping tools
and how to move quickly into problem solving mode.
I say, “You have 30 seconds to yell and stomp and then you have to
get your booty into solving your problem. Starting now!”
So, of course now with this scare, I keep wondering
who is going to do all the things I do, like problem solving,
if I get sick and heaven forbid, kick the bucket?
Stanley isn’t going to miraculously learn to problem solve
that’s for damn sure. I learned that lesson over 14 years,
THE HARD WAY.
Who is going to make sure their clothes are clean
and The Boy’s PE shirt is folded by his backpack every morning?
Stanley’s girlfriend seems about as warm and fuzzy
as a dead armadillo.
As you can see my thoughts are all messed up.
I’m going to see patients today.
I will keep you posted. Thanks for your comments and prayers.