Three Months

I was not in a good place in my head when I wrote the last post. I was worried. I do that. Kelly and I had a good laugh about it the other night. 

A few weeks ago I ran a fever for no reason. Shakes, sweating, the whole bit. And when I am sick I take my temperature. A lot. I know I am being silly, but I can’t help it.

So a few nights ago I was lying in bed before going off to sleep and I saw the “ear gun” as Kelly calls it on my nightstand. It was an almost autopilot action. I poked it in my ear and took my temp. Yup, perfectly normal. It was then I noticed Kelly looking at me and smiling. “Oh my God you’re Neurotic!”  I held out my hands like a scale.  “Solution or acceptance?” as if weighing the options  “..ummm. I think I’m gonna have to go with acceptance on this one!” (If you read Kelly’s blog you get it) We laughed hard. In fact we got the giggles for a while. We laugh a lot together. One of the many reasons I love her so.

For the past several months, I’ve had a medical concern. Minor, but with potential. Really scary but unlikely potential. The kind of scary that a neurotic hypochondriac runs with. Or it could just be routine nothing to worry about stuff. Yesterday was my appointment with the specialist. I had all the necessary tests and my family doctor had already told me there was nothing to worry about, but he promptly referred me to specialist. Whuwhuwhuwhy?? Oh my brain grabbed on to all the possible outcomes. And then I waited. I had to wait a full 3 months for my appointment. (yes yes…I know. Americans are thinking THREE MONTHS??, yeah, whatever, I had tests and saw a specialist and all of it was free.) So by the time the day came, I was just chock full of anxiety. And I think that anxiety bled into every part of my life. It gave me a negative outlook that I couldn’t shake off. It’s hard to be happy about a new season or look forward to the holidays when your neurosis and hypochondria are in overdrive. So that is when I posted last, the night before the visit to the specialist.

The good news, of course, is that I have nothing to worry about. He doesn’t even feel I need to see him again. I am fine. He explained it to me, a little more clearly than my GP did, and dismissed my other concerns after examining me as “no, nothing wrong there at all”  That is language that works for me. It doesn’t leave the door open for neurosis to crawl through. “Nothing wrong at all.”  All is right. 

Now where did I put my Santa Hat?