Fucking health anxiety. I’m just so tired of this shit and it takes over my life. Googling symptoms of breast cancer or colon cancer or skin cancer and survival statistics by age. I feel trapped. The hours, days, months lost in this prison of obsession. Up to 60 hours a month when at my worst. 60 hours! There's so much of life I miss out on. Reading, writing, time with Kevin.
This googling doesn’t feel like a choice. It legit feels like if I stop, a volcano of red anger and black fear will erupt from the bottom of my stomach and shoot out my mouth. Devastating me, and everything else in its wake. I picture my thoughts, generally some version of, “I have (insert body part) cancer,” chasing each other throughout my brain. Going in endless loop-di-loops with the roller coaster cars crashing into one another. But, this doesn’t seem to slow them down. I’m chasing these cars, breathless, but they just have so much more speed and power than I do. They’ve gotten away from me once again. I go to the doctor to make the obsessive chatter in my mind shut the hell up.
This is what the doctor debacle looks like:
1)Preparing myself for the news I have cancer. This is before I’ve had any tests or even seen the doctor. I picture him saying “I’m really sorry, but...” and me trying not to throw up or pass out. I’ve even written goodbye letters to those I love at the stage. Like, that’s fucked.
2)Sitting in his waiting room and trying to distract myself by playing an escape room game on my phone. Spoiler alert, this doesn’t work. I go into his office and am so nervous my words trip over each other and I forget what I want to say. I’m embarrassed and ashamed that once again I’m in his office with a symptom I may have created in my mind. Generally, he sends me for a test because he’s very cautious.
3)The time between getting the test date and results I’m actually less stressed. I’ve done my part to stop my death by going to the doctor. It’s in the professional’s hands now.
4)Waiting for results is the worst part. Mouth dry, muscles clenched, thoughts scattered for the days between test and results. Now, I’m no longer googling symptoms but side effects of chemo/radiation. I'm wondering who will drive me to appointments and what type of vomit bowl I want. I’ve been wrong every time and the next time I’m still positive it’s cancer.
5)Get results that everything is fine. There’s a sigh of relief and my mind is blessedly calm for about a week. Then I find a new symptom and the whole goddamn roller coaster starts again.
It’s exhausting and lonely. No one is really with me on this trip. I spend hours hiding in my closet to check my breasts for lumps and taking pictures of what I think are dimples to compare to Dr Google. I don’t want Kevin to see this. There’s just so much shame.
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