To think I thought meeting with the oncologist in person would somehow make this nightmare less stressful. Instead, I have more frustration to deal with. I’m angry,  and sad that I know nothing helpful at all.  The doctor got some of my records from Maine but a huge chunk of my care is missing.  No radiology or chemo toxicology reports, or two of  the three oncologists reports. So then the doctors says, I should know the names of the drugs used. The first time was 40 years ago and the second time was 15 years.

WTF?  The first time I was trying to raise three children, while working full time, in a verbally and sometimes physically abusive relationship and puking my brains out. The last time I had just gotten divorced, was attending college full time and working full time.  I am still furious that he commented I should know the drug names. Remembering that time is something I didn’t want to do. I assumed that all my medical would be available.  I just wanted my life back so I could enjoy dating, living again.

Apparently in this cluster f..k world that’s not the case. Yes, I’m swearing.

Now I have a genetic screening to be done, an appointment with a gynecologist to be examined down there and a biopsy there in addition to all that is happening to me on August 11th. I feel like a science project not a relieved patient. GRRRR

More waiting. More stress filled sleepless nights.

“Maybe cut back on the coffee a bit, that may help with the discomfort” he said after reading my food journal.  Coffee is not the issue….. I had days with no coffee and still f-ing hurt and had diarhea. So WTF?

Song choice:

I chose a song that simply feels right.  Especially the title that’s how I feel .. Basket Case! Anger needs to be expressed so why not with music. Basket Case works for this moment. I feel melodramatic, neurotic and paranoid. Why shouldn’t I be.. the dang letter-c is hanging over me. They’re not seeing me running my hands through my hair constantly, or knocking things over because I’ve become clumsier than normal or crying at the drop of a hat. A restlessness that can’t be satisfied whether it be going out, staying in, trying to sleep, lying awake all night, pacing the floor, watching the moon. I’ve done them all in the last 49 days.

Or worse masking my emotions up tighter so I don’t add more stress to everyone else. They all have enough on their plates with COVID-19, grieving, trying to find normalcy in a world that refuses to be normal. I know they’ve offered any time I need to talk but I am not a person who burdens others either.

Joe Klass says, “The truth will set you free, but first it will piss you off.”  Ain’t that the truth.  But reality is I need to be like what Aristotle said, “Anybody can become angry — that is easy, but to be angry with the right person and to the right degree and at the right time and for the right purpose, and in the right way — that is not within everybody’s power and is not easy.”  My focus needs to be on the right objective, kicking this dang disease to the curb. Although tonight, I’m feeling more like Mark Twain…  I’ve counted to four, and now I’m SWEARING and piecing poems together from newspaper titles.