“…it’s nothing.”
Or was it “pretty sure”? It definitely wasn’t “really sure”.
Rewind.
The past few weeks have been not so great for me personally, to be completely honest with you. Since getting an all clear and finishing chemo, I’ve dealt with nightmares where I’m diagnosed with random illnesses. Then the next night my nightmare consists of me lying in a hospital bed with friends and family around me as if I am about to pass on.
This is raw stuff I’m sharing, and since I started out that way, I can’t stop now. Cancer is ugly.
I’ve backed away from blogging/sharing/talking about what’s going on, because I couldn’t. Like physically couldn’t.
Sometimes I’m afraid to go out because I’ve started looking over my shoulder…like something’s coming after me. Sometimes I feel trapped. Even when I’m in my own bed.
When I see a picture of me during chemo I nearly freak out. The thought of injections, needles, and medicine bring me to a paralyzing crawl. The phrase “#blamedrewscancer” doesn’t bring out the unity, and amazing things you all have done for me after chemo ended. It brings out fear and nervousness, as if I have a wound being torn open repeatedly. It shouldn’t. And I’m working on that.
So my phone rings yesterday and it’s my nurse Ellen from Dr. Solan’s office. She asks me how I was feeling (from the wretched flu, which I’m feeling better from), and we talk about Thanksgiving.
Then she says, “We got your PET scan back…”
I nearly lost it. And dropped the phone for a second.
“Yes?” I answered like a robot.
“There’s that abnormality that showed up a few times, and the Dr. is fairly sure it’s nothing, but wants to have it removed…I know how you are (a self professed hypochondriac) so I wanted to tell you before you talked to him”
What.
The.
Fuck.
Are you kidding me? Does my body have any freaking clue what my brains going through right now? Haven’t I had ENOUGH? At this point I’m super close to asking the “W*y #e?” question I’ve made it a point to never ever ask.
I see the surgeon Thursday to set a date for the lymph node removal for biopsy. (under my jaw)
Now mind you, when I asked the Dr. straight up in May what he thought was wrong with me, he answered “A type of lymphoma, probably Hodgkins” BEFORE the biopsy. This time he’s “fairly sure it’s nothing”.
I guess I have to take that at face value and be positive.
Lots of luck there, I’m somewhere in between having nothing left in the tank, and refueled and ready to go again. It’s odd, I feel alone again. And I have a slew of things to put off again.
I’m fairly sure no matter what happens, I’ll be ok. Just wanted to share, since I started with that whole “sharing thing” in the first place 
Anyone who wants to help kick this cancer things ass can do 2 things. Follow Drew Carey to get us closer to a million dollars by December 31st, and share it with all of their friends to do the same.
http://www.milliondollardrew.com
Thank you for all of your love and support.