Jerry Day

Today was "Jerry day".

Labs first.  Nothing of note.  Use the hot pad to warm up the arm, and then take the blood.  And no question about which arm to stick.  Of course, I just put out my left arm, so if the wrong arm is not available, all will be well~

Jerry wasn't too late today.  Wonderful.

Because of the joint stiffness and pain I have been experiencing (severe -- I hobble around like a really really old person...) Jerry will switch the medication I am taking for estrogen suppression.  Hopefully that will help.

I have had a few headaches, so Jerry wants another MRI of my brain.  "First available".  That is Saturday, tomorrow, 7:30 a.m.  Oh my goodness.  This time I will take a double dose of sedative in an attempt to have an easier time in the 'machine'.

I have been doing pretty well leaving that sack of fear alone.  But not today.  "Jerry days" are particularly hard.  What will he say?  How am I doing?  Is the blood work normal?  Not to mention the instant panic that arrives upon walking in the door of the Cancer Center.  And when that panic rises in the middle of an intense hot flash, I am really in a mess.  

As Don and I stood at the counter while Jerry's medical assistant, Sconesha, was making calls to schedule my MRI, echo-cardiogram, mammogram, and EKG, I had another "punched in the stomach by cancer" moment.  I had to fight off the tears.  As I heard Sconesha say my name, along with the words "history of breast cancer", "headaches", "another echo", I wanted to scream.  WHY ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT ME?  I AM FINE!  STOP SAYING MY NAME AND THOSE AWFUL THINGS.  STOP IT.  STOP IT.  STOP IT!"

Instead of screaming, I stood there and "patiently" waited for her to finish scheduling my next few weeks.  And willed myself not to cry.

Another "how did this happen" moment.  Another "why me, God" question.  I thought I was done with those reactions and questions.

Perhaps I will never be done asking.

That is o.k.

Because I know He will answer -- maybe not on my timeline, but He will answer.