I am not dead and buried yet, however. Just that dreaded phone call from the radiologist, confirming that I hate cell-phones because I happened to be in Price Chopper,talking to an old man about how much cheaper Orville Redenbocker popcorn is down in Publix in Florida. So I got this phone call, which knocked me socks off. I tried to ask Ms. Radiologist what exactly it meant that "something showed up", but she said she was only the messenger, and that I had to make an appointment to come back in. Next week, I go back in.
Now, my mother had a breast cancer. When she was 43, she had a masectomy, followed by another masectomy, and chemo because the cancer had spread to her lymph-nodes. She survived, and lived until she was 69. So even if the "something" IS cancer, I am not necessarily doomed. But just for the record, I couldn't really finish my shopping. I went through the register in a fog. Jonathan isn't one to let anything go over his smart little head, so he kept asking me who called and what they said, so I was just honest, and told him it was probably fine, but I have to go back in for more tests.
Anyway, that is my story for the day.
I am going to work on being at rest. God knows what's best for me.
So I figure that if I am faithful to say a resounding NO to all thoughts of anxiety, and fight not to cross any bridges until I come to them, I will get some oil in my lamp, and much good will come of this trial.
For now, though, I would like to sneak into my room and have a little cry:)