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Jul. 9th, 2015 04:04 amIt is funny how (mostly) unacknowledged fear can cripple a person. A month ago, I struggled to make seven tunics and one gown for people headed to Pennsic. It took me two weeks and at least one evening of tears, with background mind-music playing "this used to be so easy, what's wrong with you?'. I left the event with the intention of making two more gowns for a person who didn't fit anything I'd prepared, yet no scissors met fabric until today. Although I did dye 4 yards of white so it'd be a nice lavender.
Tuesday was my dietician appointment. I approached it with dread - too many crisis's, too many party/celebrations over the last two months had garnered me too many pages in my food log with "over allowed amount" or even just "binged" written across the page. I was ashamed and the only thing that forced me to make the appointment was the big banner I'd read on their welcoming page which said "don't avoid your appointment if you've not lost weight - we are here to help you when you need it most!". So I went. And was surprised. I've lost five pounds. That's not the pound-a-week that I'd been doing at the beginning but it was more than I expected. And rather than getting chewed out, the dietician complimented me because, as she explained, under the circumstances of the last couple of months most people would have gained weight rather than lost any at all. She also gave me some strategies for dealing with people pushing food on me that I shouldn't be eating. It is very hard to turn down someone's homemade treat that they are so proud of, and danged irritating to have someone else shove a spoonful of something at my face with the demand, "taste this!" only to scowl and glower when I decline. "It's a small amount and you should have tried it" seems to be justification enough to treat me like an antisocial meanie because I wouldn't put that bit of food in my mouth... which social pressure I have difficulty dealing with. You know - that 'wanting to please people' thing is hard to turn off!
The downer side of the visit was learning that the soreness I've noticed in my legs when I've pushed to stay upright long enough for them to go numb before I sit back down is oxygen starvation in the cells. I was, as I had thought (but my Primary Care doc brushed off) actually harming myself by attempting to walk more daily. She wants me to start noting exactly when the circulation begins to cut off - I really only notice once the whole leg is mostly numb, because I'm focused on whatever it is that I'm doing - shopping, usually - so now I need to pay attention and get a time line. In the meanwhile, mobility at Pennsic is going to be limited far more than I had planned.
Anyway. So Tuesday afternoon had me humming to myself because a dreaded appointment had been positive and affirming. Wednesday was my oncology appointment, where I would get the news about the enlarged lymph node - was it still enlarged? If it was, that pretty much meant cancer again.
It was not. My doctor said, "You keep passing all of my tests" and has placed me on what would be a maintenance regime - my appointments will now be twice a year, and the same with CT scans. While they do not use the word 'remission' with my type of cancer, for all intents and purposes that is what I am in.
And I left his office, came home to lunch, then put music on and cut out & made two gowns from scratch (no pattern), then fitted them onto the new owner this evening and that was that.
Fear. I wasn't even aware I'd been carrying it. I now feel as though I've woken up from a sludgy sleep, mentally.
Tuesday was my dietician appointment. I approached it with dread - too many crisis's, too many party/celebrations over the last two months had garnered me too many pages in my food log with "over allowed amount" or even just "binged" written across the page. I was ashamed and the only thing that forced me to make the appointment was the big banner I'd read on their welcoming page which said "don't avoid your appointment if you've not lost weight - we are here to help you when you need it most!". So I went. And was surprised. I've lost five pounds. That's not the pound-a-week that I'd been doing at the beginning but it was more than I expected. And rather than getting chewed out, the dietician complimented me because, as she explained, under the circumstances of the last couple of months most people would have gained weight rather than lost any at all. She also gave me some strategies for dealing with people pushing food on me that I shouldn't be eating. It is very hard to turn down someone's homemade treat that they are so proud of, and danged irritating to have someone else shove a spoonful of something at my face with the demand, "taste this!" only to scowl and glower when I decline. "It's a small amount and you should have tried it" seems to be justification enough to treat me like an antisocial meanie because I wouldn't put that bit of food in my mouth... which social pressure I have difficulty dealing with. You know - that 'wanting to please people' thing is hard to turn off!
The downer side of the visit was learning that the soreness I've noticed in my legs when I've pushed to stay upright long enough for them to go numb before I sit back down is oxygen starvation in the cells. I was, as I had thought (but my Primary Care doc brushed off) actually harming myself by attempting to walk more daily. She wants me to start noting exactly when the circulation begins to cut off - I really only notice once the whole leg is mostly numb, because I'm focused on whatever it is that I'm doing - shopping, usually - so now I need to pay attention and get a time line. In the meanwhile, mobility at Pennsic is going to be limited far more than I had planned.
Anyway. So Tuesday afternoon had me humming to myself because a dreaded appointment had been positive and affirming. Wednesday was my oncology appointment, where I would get the news about the enlarged lymph node - was it still enlarged? If it was, that pretty much meant cancer again.
It was not. My doctor said, "You keep passing all of my tests" and has placed me on what would be a maintenance regime - my appointments will now be twice a year, and the same with CT scans. While they do not use the word 'remission' with my type of cancer, for all intents and purposes that is what I am in.
And I left his office, came home to lunch, then put music on and cut out & made two gowns from scratch (no pattern), then fitted them onto the new owner this evening and that was that.
Fear. I wasn't even aware I'd been carrying it. I now feel as though I've woken up from a sludgy sleep, mentally.
