Putting it out there-input requested - 04-14-2003 01:10 PM
Hi Gang:
Those of you who have gotten to know me over the last several months might have discovered that I'm kind of a "cut to the chase" kind of person (yes, I know this is both my greatest attribute and my biggest downfall).It's how we nurses function-find it, fix it, and move on to the next life that needs to be saved.
Over the last few months since Dave finished active treatment and we have entered the "watchful waiting" zone, I have come to the realization that I don't do well with things over which I have no control (okay, this is no surprise either so stop laughing Brian, Packer, Dee, Dinah, Danny, Sherrie, Donna, etc...). The news from Rosie about Heather's status probably gave me the final push to send this message out and ask for your collective input which I value so highly.I think my anxiety is rearing it's ugly head and "watchful waiting" has become more hellacious for me that active treatment was (pray Dave doesn't read this because I'm sure he will beg to differ) because, damn it, what's been done is done and we aren't doing anything right now and did what we did do the right thing?
The bottom line is that living with oral cancer (or any type for that matter) is a real, gritty, scary (okay, terrifying) experience that has tested my faith in destiny, justice, belief in positive outcomes, and on a practical level, trust in health care professionals of whom I am basline skeptical most of the time.
On the flip side, living with oral cancer has affirmed my faith in friends, love, Dave, and the value of slightly irreverently driving our own bus as a team. To be frank, I'm not sure what I'm asking of all of you but I am really interested to hear how you handle the fear factor and keep the daily struggle in perspective.I'm in that weird place where I want someone to look me straight in the eye and tell me, preferably, loudly and repeatedly, that this whole scene will turn out to make a great chapter in a self-discovery/relationship book and I'll look back on it and chuckle at how far Dave and I have come in out evolutionary processing. The real side of me says Darwin probably wasn't worried about having a scope shoved down his throat every month and being crazed by follow-up scans.
Okay, so short of chanting that the CAT scan machine is our friend (yes, someone did recommend this idea for my anxiety), I'm thinking there must be some constructive advice out there.
They say timing is everything-no surprise that we meet with our ENT tomorrow(who I do trust and can tell I am scared) to have Dave scoped, poked,prodded ,and to plan how I wait while remaining watchful but maybe just a tad more chilled out...
As always,
Kim
Those of you who have gotten to know me over the last several months might have discovered that I'm kind of a "cut to the chase" kind of person (yes, I know this is both my greatest attribute and my biggest downfall).It's how we nurses function-find it, fix it, and move on to the next life that needs to be saved.
Over the last few months since Dave finished active treatment and we have entered the "watchful waiting" zone, I have come to the realization that I don't do well with things over which I have no control (okay, this is no surprise either so stop laughing Brian, Packer, Dee, Dinah, Danny, Sherrie, Donna, etc...). The news from Rosie about Heather's status probably gave me the final push to send this message out and ask for your collective input which I value so highly.I think my anxiety is rearing it's ugly head and "watchful waiting" has become more hellacious for me that active treatment was (pray Dave doesn't read this because I'm sure he will beg to differ) because, damn it, what's been done is done and we aren't doing anything right now and did what we did do the right thing?
The bottom line is that living with oral cancer (or any type for that matter) is a real, gritty, scary (okay, terrifying) experience that has tested my faith in destiny, justice, belief in positive outcomes, and on a practical level, trust in health care professionals of whom I am basline skeptical most of the time.
On the flip side, living with oral cancer has affirmed my faith in friends, love, Dave, and the value of slightly irreverently driving our own bus as a team. To be frank, I'm not sure what I'm asking of all of you but I am really interested to hear how you handle the fear factor and keep the daily struggle in perspective.I'm in that weird place where I want someone to look me straight in the eye and tell me, preferably, loudly and repeatedly, that this whole scene will turn out to make a great chapter in a self-discovery/relationship book and I'll look back on it and chuckle at how far Dave and I have come in out evolutionary processing. The real side of me says Darwin probably wasn't worried about having a scope shoved down his throat every month and being crazed by follow-up scans.
Okay, so short of chanting that the CAT scan machine is our friend (yes, someone did recommend this idea for my anxiety), I'm thinking there must be some constructive advice out there.
They say timing is everything-no surprise that we meet with our ENT tomorrow(who I do trust and can tell I am scared) to have Dave scoped, poked,prodded ,and to plan how I wait while remaining watchful but maybe just a tad more chilled out...
As always,
Kim