Facing Demons, Part 2

I didn’t know that by visiting Dana Farber, last week, I essentially bought myself a ticket for a a runaway train of grief, depression, low self-esteem, anger and panic, to name just a few emotions.

When I left, after talking to the social worker, I felt like a ghost wandering the streets surrounding the hospital. I felt hideous, conspicuous, fat, ugly, directionless and like no matter how quickly I walked, I could not get out of the area fast enough. My legs felt like lead, as did my spirit. Knowing I was walking the same walk Chris did two years before for five days in a row, every single month was too much for me to take. I felt like there was no escape from the feeling that I had jumped into a giant vat of cancerous toxins that I could not wash off of my skin.

I took the entire day off to do this and also go to my doctor for my annual exam. I was beginning to regret that decision.

I felt compelled to go back, though, and face the past. I needed to. I’m not finished yet. I know I will go back there and wander around and try to bring the reflection of the memory of what happened into focus in the here and now. Until I do, I will feel haunted.

I know the doctors at Dana Farber help people every single day, but for me, the hospital is a place where Chris could not be saved. I know that happens. Lots of people are too sick to be saved. That isn’t Dana Farber’s fault. It’s nobody’s fault. It is what it is.

The only thing I wanted to do was to go home, close the curtains, lay down, close my eyes and cry. Knowing that is what gave me the strength to scrape my spirit off the bottom of my shoes and make my way to the Boston Public Library, instead, my laptop in tow. I sat for a couple of hours designing a web site and reading my psychology book and when the time came, I packed up my stuff and headed to Davis Square for the dreaded GYN.

After my exam, my doctor mentioned that she felt something in my uterus and wanted me to go to the hospital to have an ultrasound to rule out anything serious. I didn’t care, or at least I thought I didn't care. I thought if I have cancer, I will just go through the motions, like Chris did. I know the drill. The only difference is that he wouldn’t be here to see me through, which actually makes me feel better in some ways.

I requested that the office assistant schedule my appointment with radiology and headed home. I didn’t know my appointment was going to be scheduled for the very next day. When I found that out, panic set in. I remembered that when Chris went to his doctor to point out that his stomach felt hard, the doctor told him, without hesitation, to get straight over to the oncologist immediately. That was the start of our ordeal.

I was nervous. Did my doctor see something? I didn’t know. I went to my appointment where I was subjected to a reasonably invasive internal and external ultrasound, administered by a technician who was about as gentle and understanding as a robot. The procedure hurt and my pain and panic angered her causing her to exclaim, “If you can’t tolerate this I’m going to have to stop!” I had to beg her to continue, or risk having to come back again. As Chris would have said, “I basically bent over and took it up the ass.” except that I was lying down and in actuality, I took it up the vaginal canal and into the uterus.

When it was over and I was dressed, panic began to set in again. I was experiencing raw crampiness and I became convinced that I was feeling the cancer she had found and aggravated. I began to think about how I would handle actually having cancer and having to take care of myself without a partner to help me through the nightmare. I imagined myself in a hospital bed, chemo drip-drip-dripping into my veins. I imagined how I might feel walking to the train station afterwards feeling like a strung-out junkie and like death had a hold on me and nobody could help. I tried to call my friends by nobody answered their phones. I felt so alone and very sad.