…everything goes all weebly-wobbly, timey-wimey and I want to just go home.
Alternatively titled: “The post I don’t want you to read.”
Alternatively, alternatively titled: “I’ve had enough of this shit and I want it to stop.”
If I had a dollar for every time some doctor, specialist or nurse has uttered those words…
“I’m so very sorry.”
Should I run, now?
So get this: I don’t have cancer.
Isn’t that feckin’ AWESOME!!!!?????? *jazz hands* 😀
Because I totally thought that I might. I had been putting off an appointment with my GP for lumps on my lymph nodes. Unfortunately, I’ve also been experiencing some concurrent “my skin is falling off”…and the intense pain and burn necessitated the urgency to get in to see her.
This kind of pain and burn makes the Hounds of Hell look like puppies. True story.
Cancer was Door #1.
No, I have what was behind Door #2 AND Door #3…and although I really don’t wish to post anything at all…I’m going to. Because if it helps even one person, I swear it will keep me going.
Because, my peeps…I sure as shit don’t feel like doing the keeping of the going. I’m not entirely certain chocolate could help this bad-boy level of feelz on my inside.
I have a systemic infection that is likely arising from the awesomeness of…..
Psoriasis. Oh, yes…because TWO autoimmune
diseases conditions are better than one! o.O
Yes, peeps…the skin is falling off like a summer rain. Or, typhoon. Or, cyclonic hurricane from hell. With hounds. Of pain.
My scalp feels like…well…to be honest, I’ve never felt anything like this before. E.V.E.R. I’ve had the skin rub off of my elbows from…having them on the dining room table. Ya. That’s it.
So, I’ve got corticosteroids for my scalp…I’ve got shampoos (because TWO kinds that make your head smell like it’s been paved with asphalt are better than ONE!) and I’ve got ointments and lotions. My referral to the dermatologist has already been faxed. My nurse called me today just to let me know that. I may have left the office on Tuesday leaking tears profusely from my ocular orbs. She may have also said, “I’m sorry.”
And, by tears, I mean torrential rains quite similar to the skin volume falling off of my head.
I knew what had to happen before she’d even suggest it…if only to get these medications directly onto my skin to help the cell regeneration and eliminate the plaques that cover almost 75% of my scalp.
(totally a word)
Because I don’t have enough self-esteem issues.
My greatest gal pals suggested and planned an intervention of the head-wrap-variety…and it gave me hope to be able to salvage the self-esteem.
I’m going through a lot right now. A lot of challenging emotions that make me question the “why’s” and the “how’s”. In my head, I understand the logistics of this new-to-me affliction…I really do. I haz the smartz.
What I wasn’t prepared for were the onslaught of emotions that have caught me up in a wicked web of depression and soul-hurt.
I’m tired. I’ve had enough. I don’t want to have to think “All Health, All the Time” anymore.
I absolutely recognize that many people will be following my next moves: We are our actions and deeds. Watching how I react and what I will do to move on into the future whilst managing more of the “What don’t you have?”
I don’t have cancer. That was Door #1. And, I’m very, very relieved.
What I DO have, are two concurrent autoimmune diseases that I’m currently unable to discern which one is causing which symptoms on any given day. With fibromyalgia and Type 2 diabetes for shits’n’giggles.
Now, if I could just find the Door to the TARDIS and take a journey that’s just for “Me.”…no health issues…no givegivegive without recompense…and sure as shit no “I’m sorry.”
A journey through the Cosmos and time and space…escapism. “Happy.”