I've, once again, been quiet for a long time.
Very unlike me.
This time, though, I have a good reason.
No pics today, so be warned. Just me whinging.
About a year ago, when I was starting off new, and everything was changing, I wrote "hope it stays all good".
Well, it didn't.
A few months ago, I found a lump on my breast.
At this point, I'm hoping it's just a cyst.
It's been there for a few months now, and since it changes size along with my cycle, I was at first sorta hoping it would just go away.
On february 18th I had the worst panic attack ever when I realized what it could be, and that gave me the strength needed to call the local health care center.
I went to see a nurse the day after, and the following friday I got to see a doctor.
They both agreed that it's most likely nothing serious, since there's no visible changes, no swollen lymph notes, and no pain.
What is funny at this point, is that neither of them seemed truly worried about the lump itself. The status of my mental health seemed more of an issue for them.
After a week, I can see why.
The first week was hard. The panic attack I had on monday really threw me off, and the appointments stressed me out so I got very little sleep.
Today, I got a referral-whachumacallit in the mail, and, whaddoyaknow, another panic attack.
It's funny, I'm diagnosed with panic disorder, but I've never-ever had attacks of this magnitude before.
Not that nice, I tells you.
I'm going to get X-rayed on March 6th. Maybe even ultrasounded.
I can't recall ever being truly afraid of dying. Really. To me, death is like eternal sleep, with a possibility of reincarnation. So dying is not, like, really the issue here.
It's just that I really hate being sick and afraid.
What bugs me the most at this point, is not knowing what it really is.
If I knew it was just a hormone cyst, like, for sure, I could just go on with my life, trim my mullet (my hair has gotten totally out of control) and do what I do best. Write and sew and cook and sing. And if I knew it was, well, not a cyst, I could write my last will and testament, and tie loose ends together. Prepare, so to speak.
But I don't know. And that's what's driving me off the walls.
I don't know what it is, and that makes it lethal.
So for the past few weeks I've been pretty much throwing things at Husband (who's been incredible sweet and caring throughout the whole thing) and panicking and playing Oblivion way too much and imagining my death, funeral, and loved ones in mourning.
Human mind is a funny thing. It wants to take the worst-case scenario, and just run with it.
And then, when the worst thing really happens, it crumbles and dies.
The nurse said it's probably nothing.
The doctor said it's probably nothing.
So it's probably just a hormone cyst.
Does my mind believe it?
Well, I had an extra pound to lose anyway.
I'll let you know how it turned out as soon as I know.
Even if it would be just a line saying Whey or Oh crap.