This kills me to write this. And there are many reasons as to why. First, writing you reminds me just how very far away you are....that perhaps you are "reading" this...perhaps you already know what I'm wanting to share...and perhaps, worst of all, you know absolutely nothing...and you ARE absolutely nothing.
The other reason it kills me to write you is because of what I have to say. All those horrible times in my life...those times I've tortured you with my pains...the times I've wanted so much to die? Well, god/life plays a silly little joke sometimes. When I think I may die, I'm petrified. I want so much to live now...and yet I fear I may not live all that long.
I wanted you to be the first to know that this wonderful Dr., in White Plains, is one of the first to ever really hear me. And today, for the first time, I think someone is suspecting that I might have (big pause here)... Cancer. Oh god, I wrote it.
I haven't told anyone....mostly I don't think anyone would truly care all that much. That is, except for Stu. And he is so down already, and frustrated with me, that I don't want to tell him just yet. Yes, I love him that much. You see, I really need him now. But I need him to feel ok more.
Just to clarify, the Dr. didn't actually SAY he suspects cancer, but he examined me, talked a bit to me, watched me sob, and perhaps even "heard" me. He left the room and said that I should get dressed while he left to go think for a while. My pessimistic self listened for, the sounds
of him taking another patient while I waited, already dressed, for him to return. He sent a woman in to draw a bunch more of blood and told me to meet him back in his office. The woman was really nice....another rarity in these places. I asked her for a copy of the tests he's ordering before I leave. We got to talking about a cool movie she liked when we got interrupted that "whenever we were done, the doctor will see me.".
So I went into his office, with all his wonderful plaques of "best Dr" this and that...and I really started thinking he's one of the few that probably didn't pay for those things.
He told me that he thought he needed to start looking at this differently. He felt that it's getting more frequent, more symptomatic in different ways...that it was time to think more about the rest of my body in general. He is starting to wonder if something else might be wrong and it's manifesting itself in my stomach for the most part. He mentioned the idea of me getting a full (upper and lower) GI series, checking for possible "little tumors", checking my blood for (HOLD UP! DID HE SAY TUMORS)!! I just kept nodding along, neither of us missing a beat. And could you believe I didn't even pursue that with him? ME. I didn't want to know perhaps.
Yada yada yada...I start on the long drive back to work. I call Stu and tell him everything. Well, everything except the tumor thingie. I figured I'd save it for in person.
But I'm zoned out for the most part, worried about my own driving, as I impulsively get off an exit and do some shopping and eating. As I'm eating, I wonder, "how on earth am I eating...and more importantly, how on earth did I ever eat with mom had cancer?"
I get to work to put in a couple of hours, and even called Pat ahead to tell her that I'd rather not talk about the dr. visit when I see her....that if we're both there after 5, maybe then. She was fine with that. So I go about my work, which I might add, was rather crazy. Sometime I just have to tell you about what my new job is like! You would be SO proud, Mom.
Anyway, I have that list of blood tests that were done....and actually don't do anything with them. That is, till it's just about time to leave. I look up the 3 I don't know, and all of them are tests for tumors and cancer. ALL of them. I see words I don't want to read yet can hardly help myself.
I'm debating whether or not to keep this to myself until the results come. Part of it is that I'm sick of everyone thinking "it's nothing..." or "nothing ever shows up". It minimizes all the pain and suffering. I swear I think even Stu is thinking it's in my head to a large degree. Although that hurts terribly, I can barely blame him. But today, I told the doctor, as I looked him straight in the eye, "I KNOW something is wrong". And I think he believed me.
Anyway, I also am not sure I'll tell anyone because I really don't think I want to worry anyone. I mean, honestly? I wouldn't mind worrying some folks if I knew it was going to be worth their while, ya know? Like, "Hey! It finally paid off to worry. I have cancer"! Or maybe more honestly, it would be like "You never thought my symptoms were real? Well ha! Take THIS! I have cancer! Who's laughing now?" Yes, I'm angry.
I'm angry that I'm hurting so much, I'm angry that folks get sick of listening to me, I'm angry at my own body for doing this to me, and I'm EVEN angry that you're not fucking here to talk to and hold me close as I cry on your shoulder. ("Go ahead Mireille...have a field day")
Anyway, if I do have cancer? And I die? I sure as hell hope you and I can finally get together again soon. It's been way too long, ma, ya know?
I love you over and over and over again...