two and one-half weeks

Tis a cancer post I’ll be writing today in case you want to scroll on by

Two weeks until I have my bi-annual CT scan.

One week and one day until the fourth anniversary of the surgery to remove my cancer.

Three years of working with Dr. Chill to remove the fear I have with each scan. I almost had the majority of my anxiety controlled until suspicious lesions appeared on the three year post-op scan.

Just as I was ready for my party hat and noise maker, thinking I would now follow an annual scan schedule, I was smacked upside the head with a three month follow up scan of the little booger lesions.

I continue to have bi-annual scans.

I continue to obsess over my scans.

I fear that doughnut machine—especially when I receive the toxic dye.

I fear the face of my oncologist and her perky chit-chat before she announces the results.

I don’t mind being a statistic when it comes to the number of redheads worldwide, but I hate being a statistic regarding my longevity based upon my cancer status.

I enjoy the fact that I’m learning to live in the present moment, and it makes me mad when the invasive thoughts ruin that for me. My mouth dries, my stomach churns, my mind is distracted, my palms sweat, my heart races, my body thinks it doesn’t need much sleep. My interactions with others are marred by my irritability.

I know that at this particular moment, the information I have is that I’m healthy. I will remain this way until I’m told otherwise….

…..and two tears run from each eye.



pssst….I’m not feeling sorry for myself, just releasing some of the anxiety and hoping it helps.


About April

I'll come back to this when I find out who I really am. I've been through some extremely rough patches but they have made me a better person. I blog if my brain is functioning first thing in the morning.
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20 Responses to two and one-half weeks

  1. Gallivanta says:

    Hope it helps, too.

  2. reocochran says:

    Perfectly understandable to let those tears, fears and anxiety out, April.

    • April says:

      I have been trying to keep it all in and it turns me into a little tyrant. I would think that my therapist has given me all the tools to cope, but here I am…vulnerable. Really vulnerable.

  3. meANXIETYme says:

    I’m thinking of you.

  4. I’m sending you some hugs, lots of hugs, plus some rainbows and puppies.

  5. aviets says:

    I have a feeling you’ve got this covered. You’re coming from a position of strength. Pulling for you always!

  6. markbialczak says:

    Let it out, April. We’re on your side here. Wishing for more good news.

  7. I hope it helps too April. And I’m not an expert or anything. But to me, it seems completely understandable, expected, normal (?) for this kind of anxiety. I wouldn’t have thought to say what dobetteralways said, but that was a pretty darn good comment!!!!

    • April says:

      It is normal to feel this way, and I’m positive I’m not the only one who lives this way. I’m only hoping that I can learn to truly embrace each day I’m blessed with and if I have to deal with recurrence, I will be ready….mentally and physically.

  8. suzjones says:

    I hope writing this eased the burden somewhat for you. 🙂
    Hugs to you my friend.

  9. Glynis Jolly says:

    I can’t imagine the turmoil you go through for these scans. It’s inconceivable to me. I would probably need tons of medication to handle the anxiety. Yet, here you are, with a little handful of pills going bravely through the ordeal. I applaud you, April! ❤ ❤

    • April says:

      I think this one is bothering me a little more because I have lost a friend to cancer and another newly diagnosed since my last scan. I try very hard to escape the thoughts in my mind and at times I’m not successful.

  10. mewhoami says:

    My thoughts and prayers are with you. You’re becoming stronger each day. You can beat this anxiety and we’ll all celebrate with you when the results come back clean. 🙂

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