I’ve been sitting here for the past couple of days trying to pretend like I’m not going in to be tested for cancer on Tuesday. It’s worked well until today. For some reason today I’ve been doing ‘research’, reading everything I can about inflammatory breast cancer – read one website and feel better and then read another and scare myself, and then get frustrated because there’s not a whole lot of information out there about IBC, and the little bit that is out there is repeated almost verbatim on every website I go to.

Some of the pictures I’ve seen are horrible compared to what I’m experiencing and some of them I’ve seen are very mild and make me think what’s going on with me is really bad.

The thing that’s scaring me the most right now is that the PA said the cream, if it was what she thought it was, would have shown improvement in about two or three days. Reading online also says it should have shown improvement. Reading the instructions from the pharmacy, it says I should have shown improvement.

Needless to say at this point I think you can figure out –I haven’t shown improvement.

In fact, some things have gotten worse, such as the swelling in the axillary lymph area, pain, tenderness, and soreness.

I’m hoping that in a week, I’ll be feeling really foolish for being worried right now… but in the meantime, I’m scared, I think. Or maybe numb. Not sure. I’m not scared of dying. I’m scared more of what might be necessary in order to live. As Wilson on the show House said once, “Dying is easy; it’s living that’s hard.”

Of course, House comes back with, “That can’t possibly be as poignant as it sounds.”

So I called my mother last week and told her I was being tested for IBC. She di some internet research, proceeded to tell me how the test the doc is doing isn’t indicated on the website she was on, and then told me, “Well, at least you’ll lose some weight.”

Thanks, mom. Guess we all deal with this our own way, right? Is it any wonder I’m not crazy?

Oh, wait, I am.

Crazy.

Crazy for feeling so lonely…. I’m crazy.

Oh, wrong venue. This isn’t karaoke.

My daughter, I told her last night, and she sorta flipped out. She doesn’t deal well with crises. That’s my girl. Told her there is nothing to freak out about yet.

There’s not.

Still, I’m reading and reading and reading.

And running through my head all night long and most of today while I’m reading is the lyrics to the commercial song, “What would you do oo ooo for a Klondike bar.”

Remember I said I was crazy? The mind is a funny, funny thing.

Love and stuff,
Michy

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