Penny wonders this all the damn time, folks. Mainly because she thinks it must be something awesome. I am not sure how to break it to her.
UPDATE: I figure any day I wake up feeling meh about a particular event, but bull and bent on changing the overall situation can’t be all bad…
Prior to shipping off to see new specialists, there’s always a typhoon of different thoughts. The only constant is the hope that it’s worth it, and fear that I’ve just wasted energy I don’t have on someone who is unable to help (or worse, can’t say so nicely or feels as though it’s okay to reflect what I imagine is a fear of inadequacy back at me.) Sometimes I feel really extra hopeful, or not, or like everything is waiting on that visit.
Tomorrow morning I’m headed in to Dana Farber, and I can say I feel pretty freakin’ ambivalent. I hope mainly I don’t get that look I get often enough… that one reminiscent of the expression poultry gives you when they realize you don’t have chicken feed. I hate that. I know there is only enough data on me to either suggest further tests, either to clarify or identify differentials. I am quite done with reinventing wheels, and I’m sure a few tests will be unpleasant and invasive.
Well, friggin’ wah. Ask me if I care about that. It always pisses me off to have my limitations smack me… My parents came down to visit this weekend. They didn’t stay here (believe me, that would have been more unpleasant for them) and I don’t know if I’m happy I managed the two hours of sitting up I did, or I’m devastated that that was all I could do. And we aren’t going into all the birthdays, holidays and anniversaries that have been rainchecked… Many people reading this have rainchecks. And (excuse me, folks) fuck all else, everyone I know and I could all have nice long, long futures ahead of us, but we aren’t getting those “nows” back. And that’s what makes me so bullshit. I can’t predict the future, but I don’t necessarily care about the future. I care about what is right now that’s just slipping by and no one can do more than say they are sorry and blink at me like poultry.
So I can’t say I’m going to Mr. Farber’s hospital with an ax or anything, but if I get the chicken look and not much else, I’m taking young Master James Fund hostage until someone thinks of a way to help.
The buck has to stop somewhere. Mainly because my family, my friends, my sweet GP, Eddie the neuro and I deserve it.
I don’t know as I expect much out of tomorrow, except for a trip back soon to look more. That’s fine. That’s ideal. The pieces are there, we have a couple of nice colorful corners and edges of the puzzle. It could come together quickly, or it might take time. I just want to identify enough that we can do something to make good on a few of those rainchecks (and keep more from being written) while the finer points are battled over.
Got that, Dana?
Because I have people and pugs who are hellbent on having me at least somewhat functional. Hellbent, I said. You better believe it.