I have some lab tests I’m supposed to get done. My doctor faxed the lab requests to Labcorp almost a month ago now. I’ve made three different appointments to go, and somehow, I’ve missed every one of them. They are testing me for paraneoplastic syndrome, as associated with a slow-growing type of cancer or tumor. I probably don’t have it. I’m sure that instead I simply have multiple other rare and unusual conditions, all rolled into one little old me. Even though this diagnosis would make total sense and make a lot of other things come together, certainly, I can’t have cancer.

And as long as I don’t ever get the test done, I’ll never have cancer, right? That’s how this works, right? If you don’t know what’s killing you, you simply don’t die. Right?

Well, it’s not true. I worked in the medical arena a few years in my past, and I know enough to know how important early intervention and diagnosis is for any condition, but particularly with cancer. So I know I should know better.

And yet.. I cancelled one appointment because I didn’t want to get out in the rain. I slept through another one. The other one, I just forgot about.

Yeah… not good, huh?

It’s not that I don’t want to know. It honestly isn’t. It’s just… I’ve been mostly stable recently, and if I get a positive result on any of these tests, it will mean a whole new series of tests to determine what kind of cancer it is and where it is in my body, and that will results in more tests, and more poking and more prodding, and the CTEPH complicates things. What might be something simple for most folks becomes something really difficult for me. Simple procedures that most folks can go into an office for and be out in an hour, I have to go into the hospital at least overnight for because of my blood thinners and clotting problems. I can’t be sedated, so things where most folks can be sedated, I can’t be. That means I have to be awake during some really painful and scary procedures. It’s intense. It’s hard.

It’s damned hard.

You have no idea how hard it is. I have pictures of myself from the right-heart cath, where my entire shoulder and chest are solid bruises, my neck is red and swollen and looks awful, and I was awake and completely unsedated through that whole thing.

So can you imagine cancer treatment in which they won’t use morphine because morphine can suppress breathing in  CTEPH patients? Or the tests like MRI on a severely claustrophobic person without any sedation? All the poking and prodding they will add to the already insane amount of poking and prodding.

And just for a time, I almost felt normal…. for a little while, stable and not being prodded.

And I know that if I’m sick-er than I already think I am, I need to do something about it. I suppose I’m only delaying the inevitable. And if it were just a delay, that would be okay. But it’s not just a delay. It’s a potential worsening of the existing condition–if there is one–and I know that. I know that.

Sigh.

So I need to just suck it up, buttercup. I need to just go in and get it done. And you know, the thing is, if it’s nothing, then I’ve spent all this time worrying about it unnecessarily. So there you go. That’s what I need to keep telling myself. It’s going to be nothing. I’m going to go in and get it done, so I can get the results, know that it’s nothing, and relax.

Right?

I damned sure hope so.

Now…. I just have to actually get myself up and do it. Anyone know how to make that happen?

 

Love and stuff,

Michy