Amazingly, it has been almost a month since I was rushed to the hospital. A month since my gallbladder was removed. And almost a month since the words "renal mass" sent me to a dark place in my mind to wait until further testing. That dark place was frightening. It was a place where I wondered who would speak at my funeral. I wondered if I should start going through my old sentimental things so no one else would have the task after I was gone. I almost threw up with the thought that I could potentially leave my husband without a wife and my son without a mother. It was dark. I was recovering from surgery, I was stuck in my house, still in pain, so very much stuck in my head with the saddest of thoughts, with the most worrisome of dreams.
Doctors saw the mass while dealing with my gallbladder. It was a concern to them, but the testing had to wait until after I was out of the hospital. That should have brought me comfort, the idea that the test can wait, but instead it fueled my worry and extended my stress. It was a CT scan done on a Monday. By Tuesday morning I had broken out in a full body itchy rash. Thursday were the results. I spent those days itchy and worried. Spontaneously breaking into tears. C was worried too, but it came out with him telling me not to cry in front of N. My brother (who in 35 years we have never said shut up to each other or called each other names) told me to shut up and called me stupid. It was out of FEAR. He apologized. He said it was because I was making him think about something he never wanted to think about. I get that. I didn't want to think about it either. But it was all I could think about. I made super awkward jokes and would say things like, "Look at this gorgeous day, I can't go yet." I went from zero to a million in those few days and even when the news came back OK, it was hard to feel relief right away.
The news came back OK. There is something there, but it isn't something that needs to be dealt with immediately. It was just something they want to check again in 6 months. My itchy rash subsided within a few days after the results. Mom thinks it came on from stress. I wouldn't be surprised. There are still pains and pangs, but my thoughts are less dramatic and more secure, remembering that I had surgery a month ago. One of my organs was removed. There is an adjustment. My energy still sucks. My body reminds me that while the same food is going in, things are a bit different in there. I'm getting there though. One month makes a big difference. I am slowing able to start working out again, back to lifting my 2 year old, and making better decisions about what I am eating. My thoughts are less dramatic and more mundane. Whats for dinner? Back to the reality of a home desk stacked with papers. Calls to the insurance company. Its ok. Mundane is nice. But a shake up to the status quo is also not so bad. Changing your thoughts, remembering what is really important. Confirming that a snoring husband in a cozy bed is still a million times better than a lonely hospital room, a beeping IV machine and having to call for help to pee.
As an infertile, one month also has a different meaning. Another cycle. Another period that moves me closer to whatever our next step is. There is a next step. It is not soon.
2013 has been a year with plenty of opportunity to go with the flow. Going with the flow is an art form. I'm getting lots of practice.