Maybe-cancer

I have a really bad case of maybe-cancer.

This is a rotten disease.  It fills every spare moment, every quiet minute, every second I’m not actively doing something productive, the maybe-cancer takes over.

The maybe-cancer makes me hate my leg.  Makes me angry and miserable.  And yet the maybe-cancer reminds me that this pain could very well be the least of my worries in the future.

The maybe-cancer makes me limp around the house, washing winter clothes and putting them away.  The maybe-cancer is making me re-label storage bins and clean out the hall closet.

The maybe-cancer is making me nest and clean and tidy and organize and purge.

I’m frantic.

This could be the last weekend I don’t “officially” have cancer.

And I still haven’t found a babysitter or a house cleaner.  I simply have too much to do to get ready for dealing with a bad diagnosis!  I’m running out of time…the maybe-cancer is closing in and making everything I do stressful and hard.  I sometimes forget to breath.

The maybe-cancer sucks.

I reflect on just a week ago, when I really wanted to know what was wrong.  I really wanted to know, so that I could fight it, and get better.

But now I don’t really want to know.  I just want to wake up and magically be better.

The appointment is in only 2 days.  Well – 2 days, and then it is bedtime to prepare for getting up for the appointment.  But 2 more full days.  Time flies.  Time drags.  It is horrible.  I don’t know which I prefer.  But it seems to drag when I’m in pain, and fly when I’m have a wonderful time with the kids.  Just like real life, I guess.

The advantage of actually getting a diagnosis is that I can come out of my cave.  I feel I’ve been hiding.  It is easier to avoid people that to have to answer questions.  I hate lying.  I pride myself on never lying.  I’ve been lying like crazy the last few weeks.

“How is your leg”  “Coming along, thanks”

“What does your doctor say?” “She is still working on it”

“Are you limping?” “Yah, tough game last night”

“You looking forward to track and field?” “Absolutely, should be a great season!”

The maybe-cancer is turning me into someone I’m not.

Still crossing my fingers for a bone infection.  Funny how surgery and hard core antibiotics seem like a dream diagnosis when cancer is the alternative.