New directions
Some days it's better not to get out of bed, I swear. Wednesday of this week was like that. I had an appointment to see my surgeon, the gorgeous Dr A.S. with the wry sense of humour, for my first year checkup. I was nervous as hell and Sue came down from the Blue Mountains to come with me.
The first thing that happened was that I had trouble finding the car park, and when I did, the car kissed the bumper on the car park wall and now there are big white spotches on its pristine red body.
Next, we go up to the surgery and the receptionist looks at me like I was an idiot. 'No, the doctor is not here, he is in surgery today. He was here yesterday.'
Well, really! These doctors have so many offices and one hand doesn't seem to know what the other is doing. Why give me an appointment when the guy is not there. I know, to err is human, but why with me at this time? All that worry for nothing! Now I can start worrying again when I go there the next time.
Well, maybe not. Maybe my stupid psyche will behave itself and I will behave like an adult and not a spoilt brat. I've started with my wonderful counselor, Angela, again, and just about in time for all the things that are going on.
January 1, 2008 is the date I become pensionable age in Australia. I had no intention of retiring yet. I figured I'd keep on trucking as per now until I am ready. Not so easy. I survived last year on unemployment and dipping into my savings. When I returned from the US, I was ready to start work and 'get back to normal'. Well, I can't. After the first of January I can either go on the Pension, or starve, but not have the safety net that I had this past year. I am sure it makes sense from a bureaucratic standpoint, but in my present situation it's exactly the wrong thing at the wrong time.
It's really impossible for me to 'get back to normal', and that is really giving me a hard time. I do believe that the mental recovery from this cancer thing is almost worst than the physical one.
The human body and mind is amazing. I really can't remember now just how awful last year was. Angela assured me that it was horrific and when I told Sue, she agreed. "I remember how awful it was for you," she said.
I guess recovery means moving on and not dwelling on the awfulness of the experience. But just a little thing like a botched appointment can upset the applecart and one has to step back and look at it to understand what the hell is going on. God! This is too complicated!
The first thing that happened was that I had trouble finding the car park, and when I did, the car kissed the bumper on the car park wall and now there are big white spotches on its pristine red body.
Next, we go up to the surgery and the receptionist looks at me like I was an idiot. 'No, the doctor is not here, he is in surgery today. He was here yesterday.'
Well, really! These doctors have so many offices and one hand doesn't seem to know what the other is doing. Why give me an appointment when the guy is not there. I know, to err is human, but why with me at this time? All that worry for nothing! Now I can start worrying again when I go there the next time.
Well, maybe not. Maybe my stupid psyche will behave itself and I will behave like an adult and not a spoilt brat. I've started with my wonderful counselor, Angela, again, and just about in time for all the things that are going on.
January 1, 2008 is the date I become pensionable age in Australia. I had no intention of retiring yet. I figured I'd keep on trucking as per now until I am ready. Not so easy. I survived last year on unemployment and dipping into my savings. When I returned from the US, I was ready to start work and 'get back to normal'. Well, I can't. After the first of January I can either go on the Pension, or starve, but not have the safety net that I had this past year. I am sure it makes sense from a bureaucratic standpoint, but in my present situation it's exactly the wrong thing at the wrong time.
It's really impossible for me to 'get back to normal', and that is really giving me a hard time. I do believe that the mental recovery from this cancer thing is almost worst than the physical one.
The human body and mind is amazing. I really can't remember now just how awful last year was. Angela assured me that it was horrific and when I told Sue, she agreed. "I remember how awful it was for you," she said.
I guess recovery means moving on and not dwelling on the awfulness of the experience. But just a little thing like a botched appointment can upset the applecart and one has to step back and look at it to understand what the hell is going on. God! This is too complicated!
Labels: breast cancer, cancer recovery, psychology
posted by Unknown at 11:00 PM
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