Bad brain day

Home for lunch but probably only midway through the day's tasks at work. This makes me sad for many reasons.

At my best, I can look at stuff like doing the advanced biostats class (which is what is demanding so much time - I am having to take the reading notes I took over break and organize them into something like a reasonable discussion/minilecture/seminar topic for each week, and I am literally one week ahead of the students) as "I'm following in my dad's footsteps by serving students who need stuff like this, and who need arranged classes and all, so they can go out and be successful." One thing my mom noted was that in the months after my dad's death, she kept getting notes from former students of his - who are now scattered all over the country, some of whom only found out from the obituary in one of the professional journals - and almost to a person they talked about how my dad was willing to bend his own schedule, or make arrangements, or do what it took to get someone the education they needed - in a lot of cases this was accommodating non-traditional students (who had jobs and/or families to juggle along with school) in an era when that was less-recognized as something that should be done. And so I feel good about that, like, my dad would be proud of me.

But I also worry.I am not having a good day today. Monday my doctor's office is supposed to call so I can set up the ultrasound. I don't know if my blood work will be back yet; I suspect the lab that did it was closed for MLK, Jr. Day, and I don't know how long it takes. I mean, if it is back and the word is "everything was normal, like it always is" I will relax a *little* but there's the not knowing. And if the white-cell count is high, or the ALT or BUN is off, I will worry. (And there's the added worry of WHEN on the ultrasound; I'd rather not cancel class but I may have to).

It's a terrible feeling. (And my goblin brain tells me: get used to it, this is part of getting older). I flip flop between thinking "yeah, your doctor said 'I tend to be overly cautious in these cases' and 'this is very normal at your age,' and so it's nothing at all and you'll turn up as Perfectly Fine" and then I start worrying about What If: what if I am NOT Perfectly Fine? What if I have a rapidly-growing cancer I have to get evicted? Surgery terrifies me, all the more that I'm here all alone, with no one to advocate for me (if I couldn't get my mom down here in time) and how will I teach my classes? (Two of them, there is no one on staff who can cover that material, and for the others? Everyone else is already overworked and I don't want to put that on them).

And worse: what if....what if it might be Too Late already? What if Friday, when I see my doctor, my life changes from "uuuuugggggh, I have to make time to prep Advanced Biostats again and do a lot of grading" to "it's time to start making hospice plans and figure out what you want your funeral to be"

I know part of this is.....it seems excessive to call it PTSD, but it's similar....from losing my dad and a couple friends last year, and from remembering Steve's fairly sudden death the year before. And before that, Ron, another man who was a member of my church, turned up ill and he had highly advanced cancer - started in his liver, spread to his bones and brain, in about eight weeks, he was gone. Now, granted: people talked about how he "never" went to the doctor, and had also smoked and drunk heavily all his life, but....thinking of how rapidly he went downhill gives me pause. (Then again, I guess he was unwell for quite a while and kind of hid it. I don't know)

 And the very superstitious and stupid part of my brain is going "this is just the continued Universal Punishment you are subject to now for some reason; those bad things before were to prepare you for this bad thing" or alternatively "You had such a good at easy life up to age 50, look, you used up all your good fortune, you gotta expect this"

And there's also the whole "how do I gracefully draw back from all the things I do if I need to make time to do chemo or whatever?" and "How do I find people to take over some of the things I do if I .....might not be here any more after a few months?"

And the whole thing. I am just SO SICK of staring into the abyss. I have been doing so since last July and I have learned NOTHING from it. I am not yet, really, to that point where I can go "well, today might be all you have, so do your best to enjoy it" and all the slow-down-live-in-the-moment stuff that is so pushed at us as an antidote to Stress. Because honestly? There are enough unpleasant moments in my day that living in the moment seems undesirable.

I was standing in line at the wal-mart this morning; the guy ahead of me was having to tell his whole medical history to the checkout person and it was slowing things down. And I know, I know, This Is Water and the guy is probably all alone in the world with no one to listen to him, and he's worried about what's going on medically. But also, I was standing there and my brain was screaming at me "if you only have  a few months left, is THIS really how you want to be spending a portion of them" and I guess I really need to look into how the "order online and pick up" works, maybe.

But yeah. One thing I've realized these past six months is there are a lot of things I do that don't always...spark joy....but I do them anyway. Because I worry about being a Good Girl. And Doing What Is Expected Of Me. And I know people around me would complain that I have it no worse than they do, and in fact, I have it better (though one or two of my colleagues are teaching less than I am, and have no new preps).

I don't know. The holding pattern feeling of it is the hell. Where you don't know if you will land safely or crash. And the not-quite-knowing. For example: I might get a call or message Monday saying "Your bloodwork look just fine, probably there is nothing to worry about" or I might hear nothing. Or I might hear "we have some serious things to discuss in your appointment on Friday"

If I can get the ultrasound scheduled? Then maybe I'll know. I don't know if the technicians are even allowed, though, to say "Oh hey, everything looks normal, have a good day" or "you might want to discuss this thing I see with your doctor." (I'm guessing they're too professional to go "oh s***" if they see something really bad...)

Friday is the doctor's appointment. I might know then, I might not - depends on the scheduling of the ultrasound.

It feels like there are a million things that can happen. In the nicest possible universe, her office calls Monday and says "Your bloodwork is back and it all looks good, and upon reflection and discussion with a gynecologist, your doctor thinks an ultrasound is unnecessary"

In the worst possible universe? Friday I get told to meet with an oncologist as soon as I can.

And yes, there are a million things in between there, some of which are not "normal" but not that concerning. Some of which might require further investigation and stuff like a biopsy, which would be ANOTHER day (and maybe then some, depending on how I react to the anesthetic) off from work.

****

So yeah. I am trying to both work at the work I must do, and be happy, but it's hard. I admit I am slightly resentful at the whole "oh, of course you'll be happy to take on yet another new prep, on top of becoming the Assessment person for the department" and I think I am going to be justified in saying a hard no to the next big ask made of me.

And my house is a mess. That bothers me too, especially with the "but you might need surgery" worry on my shoulder, because then who could I get to come over and look after me who won't judge me as a failed grown-up based on what a horrific pit my house has become? And what if I DIE? I don't want my mom stuck cleaning this place out. (What I would like? Burn the whole damn thing down. Well, maybe take the piano out first and give it to my brother's family, but then burn it down so no one has to deal with it).

****
I mean, yes, I am "exceptionally good at dreading things" as a counselor I saw in college once told me. Probably nothing is wrong other than my body pranked me bad and scared me, and I lost 2+ weeks of productivity to worrying.

(In all seriousness? The worst possible probabilities are still 90% in my favor of it not being anything terrible, and given my age and general health, it's probably closer to 95%. But of course my brain goes "that doesn't mean anything, even something with a 0.00001% incidence will still happen to SOMEONE)

I have promised myself, if there is ANY way I can swing it, if the news Friday is good (or anything less than "surgery is required") I am going to go do something fun on Saturday instead of working. Yes, I might have to go in and work on Sunday afternoon. But I think I need a day out, shopping or going to a museum or SOMETHING.

I just....I just wish I knew for sure everything was going to be all right. (In the depths of my worry, I said to myself "I really thought I'd get.....at least 20 more years to do stuff than this...."


Edited to add: also, if the news is good or good-ish on Friday, I am 100% calling up Roma's and getting one of their good pizzas for dinner. I am "supposed" to be trying to reduce a bit but I don't care. This has been a rough couple of weeks (and will be rough until I know for fairly sure I am OK) and good pizza is one of the things that makes things better.