This is actually an entry from THURSDAY. I've been trying to get this posted, but it's long and I have to get up early in the mornings - I'm working a lot of 10-hour+ days at the moment - and it took longer than I thought it would to write.
*takes deep breath* So, as messages in my inbox have noted, I haven't been on in, like, forever.
Also, my mother informed me today over lunch - we went out to buy me clothes for work, we have to wear "Western"-style stuff for Stampede
- that there have been a lot of calls from "California" showing up on our call display lately. (*koff*) She'd know because she checks messages. It's lovely when she remembers to tell me these things.
Oh and she's also puzzled by calls from a "Jennifer," but I know that's my Dad, calling from his girlfriend's place. (She doesn't know about the girlfriend, or that Dad's moved in with her.) I bailed on him for Father's Day, and he hasn't heard from me since.
And I think lytheris
tried to call me a while back...? But I don't remember.
Yeah. I've been hard to reach.
Something I've noticed is that my posting tendencies seem to fluctuate in inverse proportion to how intense my life is at the moment, emotionally speaking. So if my life is boring and same-old, I'm on more.
And if it's blowing my mind from stress, I disappear from the online world. The worse it is, the more places I disappear from. The past several weeks, I pretty much haven't been on at ALL, anywhere. And people can't reach me offline either, unless they work or live with me.
So yeah, I'm a little upset/worked up right now.
I've also been taking over other people's shifts at work (a supervisor moved cities, and two people took weeks off), being trained for supervisor, FINALLY (to replace the one that left), and been pretty sick and tired in both literal senses. (Tired: I'm taking med holidays from my Dex on my days off work, but that has the end result of a productive-productive-productive-
productive-productive-withdrawalOMGTIRED pattern each week, and I usually sleep 18 hours or so on my days off.)
But mostly, I've been avoiding the 'net. Instead, I've actually been watching TV (which I never do) and catching up on House, M.D.
episodes because it's my engaging new fandom that
a) is attention-grabbing enough to completely distract me, and
b) has the benefit of being pointlessly reassuring on the subject I am most distressed about; namely, medical concerns.
See, I'm a teensy weensy bit worried that I have breast cancer.
I know, I know, I'm way too young. WAAAY too young. Way, WAAAAY too young. Like, ten years, at least! Heck, more like twenty, in fact! Which I suspect is why it's taken me months to get my doctor to take me seriously. *MASSIVE FRET*
I don't really mind if it's not breast cancer - really! I'll take feeling slightly foolish in GOOD stride if it's not. I just want to know what's wrong. I want to know why the underside of my right breast has a texture which my doctor helpfully described as "almost peau d’orange
."( It's not cancer if they say 'almost,' right? )
So I'm getting tested in SOME fashion - my ultrasound is on Tuesday - and I shall see what comes of that.
In the meantime, though, I'm a bit lost as to what to do. Should I do a ton of research, try to find out what it might be? Whenever I do a search on the skin thing I come up with inflammatory breast cancer, but that doesn't quite seem to fit. (Mainly because IBC seems to be marked by noticeable swelling, warmth and redness that looks like an infection and which doesn't go away.
) It might be smart to have a clue - if I'd had more clue the first time, I might have mentioned the skin changes sooner.
But I also do not want to freak myself out totally.
BUT, I do want to have some time to prepare myself mentally. In case it's not something benign. I've been trying to decide what scares or upsets me the most about the "remote" (my doc kept using that word in reference to the odds!) chance that it's actually cancer - that I won't have really finished or accomplished something if I die young? That even if I don't die, it'll totally screw up my life for at least a year or two? That if I need chemo, my hair might not grow back in so fabulously Harry Potter? That if I do die, they're probably going to inscribe, "hopeless SLOB!" on my gravestone over the state of my bedroom?
No, right now, I think my biggest fear is that I'll cry if I get told that. I hate crying in front of people with a passion, and given what I've already managed to get through (abuse of various types, growing up ADHD, suicidal depression, coming out as transsexual, that kind of thing), I'd like to think that I could pull this off with some dignity.
But I'm guessing maybe not. Since when was I known for stoic calm and grace under fire?
Anyway. I need to go to bed because it's (eep) 2 am, and I'm up earlier than usual tomorrow. But tomorrow is a short day (Sunday!), and I'm off work on Monday this week, so I will try to catch up with people Monday at the latest, if not tomorrow night.
I pray I haven't misspelled much in this longer-than-a-day-in-hell entry, because I REALLY am too tired to proofread.