With you comes worry and waiting. Worry--What's that weird pain in my side? Well, I've had a headache for three days now, should I call my oncologist? My intestines are jacked up again, hope this diarrhea doesn't last much longer. What if I don't catch it early enough next time? Waiting--1 week to see if you've spread, 20 weeks of chemo to see if you've shrunk, only 2 days till I loose my breasts, 2 months for the stupid genetics test, 3 days till blood work results, 1 week till scan results put me in the clear, 6 months till implants, 6 more for nipples. Worry and waiting have become easier to deal with, the longer I've had you. In the beginning, it enveloped my thoughts and actions. I put off eating, because I was worried. I couldn't sleep, because I was waiting. I didn't smile, because I was worried. And, I cried because I was waiting.
After about two weeks of that I had enough. I was having this back and forth dialogue with you, and I almost exploded. I yelled out loud, "STOP, CANDICE! YOU'RE INSANE." Then, I laughed. I laughed out loud for about a minute at how crazy I was. I was giving you all the control. Control you didn't deserve, and control I'd be able to beat with you with, once I took it back. So, here's what I did...
I put on these fantastic pink shoes with my sweat pants. I grabbed my funky yellow purse, and I went to the mall by myself. I swung by Starbucks, told the barista a joke, and sipped my caramel moch as I drove. I blasted, "Here I go again on my own, going down the only road I've ever known. Like a drifter I was born to walk alone. And, I made up my mind, I ain't waistin no my time. Here I go again," singing my face off. I did a little retail therapy, buying my first frilly headband in preparation for a bald head. And finally, I called my friend Lisa and made dinner plans. We laughed, and made one rule, no talking about you for 1 hour.
I can control worry and waiting. Not you.