It’s Been One Week

It’s Been One Week

It’s been one week since you looked at me
Cocked your head to the side and said, “I’m angry”

—my excised lymph node, probably

One week ago today was the biopsy. I don’t have any answers yet.

It’s no secret that patience is not a strength of mine, but in this particular case, I’m cutting myself some slack for my deficiency. No one in this situation would be cool with the waiting part. No. One.

But wait I must.

So what else is floating around in my head besides excessive lymph? I’m so glad you asked. I need to start on our taxes, but I don’t feel like it, so…next!

I still owe the Cancer Center of Illinois roughly $500, and the waterfall of bills for the biopsy will probably arrive next month. Good times.

It’s supposed to reach 70°F today, according to my weather app. But even that’s a mixed bag. On the one hand: ahhhhh. On the other: climate anxiety. And then snow on Monday, but I’m going to try not to think about that.

The other day I listened to an episode of It’s Okay That You’re Not Okay. (A podcast mentioned by a friend on social media.) The episode was about chronic illness, and it resonated with me in ways that soothed the part of me that needs to heal from the medical gaslighting years ago.

To be clear, I don’t have problems with current doctors. It’s just that the damage the old ones did was life-altering in a very lingering way. What I needed to hear was, “I don’t know how to fix this, but I believe you” and what I got instead was “It can’t be that I don’t know everything, so you must be lying.”

Not to mention all the Lincoln Financial Group drama.

Anyway, feeling seen, as the kids say, made my muscle tension ease some. That in turn lessened some of my pain and confirmed my motive for writing about what literally hurts me: I blog this stuff for me and so someone else might find comfort too.

Oh yeah, the regular walker arrived, and I am not good at it. I think being pain-free from the anesthesia at the hospital is what made it easier. I’m always coming back to the damn pain. Wanting to be rid of it (the part I can get rid of) makes it harder to let go of it. Life is so unfair.

That’s not me whining; that’s me stating a goddamned fact.

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