“Plans are useless, but planning is invaluable.” -Winston Churchill
As someone who has made her living out of planning every last detail, in the past few weeks I’ve never been more aware of how little is within my ability to control in this life. It seems that shouting, “I have a plan!” is just the cue the Universe needs to pull the rug out from under you. I’m swallowing the fact that there is no way to plan yourself into safety. I’ve always feared the unknown but now I’m forced to make friends with it.
In my plan for my life right now I’d be working on the details of our October wedding not calling doctors offices to get appointments or answers. On Sunday we went to pick out tuxes for Mr. Darcy and Finn. I struggled to be in the moment and feel happy as we discussed what color bow ties to choose. And since we went with the dark teal and the vest which were Mr. Darcy’s choices, I think I acquiesce easier nowadays. (Mr. Darcy might beg to differ.) Later, I stood in my wedding dress for an hour and a half during my alterations appointment trying to think about our wedding day and not my upcoming gyno oncologist appointment (or about passing out because, damn, it was hot in there).
I go to work, albeit, not always on time and sometimes when a doctor’s office calls I have to run around the office looking for a room with a door so I can talk privately about my cervix, viscosity of blood, the cancer. People seem surprised I’m working. What else would I do? Sitting around alone at home is not good for me. Life continues on and fuck if I am going to hide from it.
Friends worry about burdening me with their own troubles. I say BRING IT because I need to think of something other than this stupid cancer and what looms ahead. I need to support you too and show you I love you back with my caring. Besides, my cancer does not trump someone else’s sorrows or worries. We all have our troubles and heartaches. You tell me yours; I’ll tell you mine. This is not a contest of woes. If it is, for the first time in my life, I want to lose something.
Today at 1pm I have my first gyno oncologist appointment. Mr. Darcy is going with me and I’m bringing along my notebook of questions. I have no idea what the doctor will tell us. Right now when I picture it, it feels like standing in front of a loaded gun. (I need better imagery.) My hope is that the appointment gives us some options for next steps and some clarity about my condition. I’ve always been the type of person who would rather know the whole, hard truth than have potentially hurtful things glossed over for the sake of protecting me. I am tired of sitting idle with my fears. I am a person who takes action and all this sitting around just waiting is pissing me off.
As much as I can, I’m readying myself for the new information. I am prepared leave my armor at the door and to walk further into the unknown.