Check, Check 1-2-3

It's that time again! Wednesday is my CT, and so will begin the week-long cycle of numbness, fear, paranoia, panic, sleepless nights, bitchiness, getting lost in my own head, and finally physical illness when I enter the clinic for my results. It's a bittersweet experience for me. I'm glad to have the CT done. I want to have it done more often. If I had to have one done every month, you'd never hear me complain about it. But a lot can happen in the six months between scans and I know all too well that doctors and radiologists miss things. And so I live in my own brand of hell from a day or two before the scan, until I get the results.

I was in Bryan's den the other day grabbing the presents to wrap and saw a picture on his desk of him and I at Miller Park. I swam through the sludge in my mind trying to place that memory - gone. I don't remember that picture or that day. Sometimes I wonder if I don't want to remember - if I'm that desperate for leave the whole cancer experience behind me that he's just become collateral damage. But then I look at my kids and how desperate I am to remember how they smelled when they were babies and I know that's not the case. I just can't figure out how my feelings could change so drastically, so fast.

I wish I could find one person to talk to in complete honesty who would never breathe a word of it to anyone.