go hug yourself

I had my one week post chemo appointment yesterday and it couldn't have gone worse (I am healthy and my counts are good, it's more of a customer service complaint).  I guess when I walked in I left myself at the door because I felt railroaded and didn't stand up for myself. I was too tired. I am too tired. I am exhausted from being sick, emotionally drained, walking on a thin line between normalcy and going off the deep end because there is just too much on my plate. 

There are two oncologists and I normally see one of them, she is amazing, she listens and I trust her.  When we first went there we met with the other one, he seemed nice enough, but I haven't seen him since.  I think in the pecking order he is above her.....when we were dealing with fertility issues prior to surgery my fertility doc was talking to him, he was the one making decisions. He was the one who made the decision that I couldn't receive the injections that would shut down my ovaries--this would help and give them a chance to recover when chemo was done, he didn't think there was enough data............so I am premenopausal.

So yesterday I met with him instead.  I brought in my normal list of concerns and new developments and it was for the most part ignored.  He addressed all his questions and answers to my questions to Scott and I felt like a third wheel.  I was on the brink of tears because I was too frustrated and didn't want to speak, or interject because I felt like a breakdown would be something that the doctor would expect--more ammunition for treating me like I don't have a voice.  The doctor then preceded to tell me to stop medications that I thought were helping.  And I felt like I wasn't getting answers to my questions and left the appointment visibly upset.  I was at least able to make it to the car before I started to cry.  And lash out at Scott.  Mostly because he has a penis and the doctor felt like they were on the same page and I felt like I needed protected and Scott didn't do anything.  Obviously that is not factual and it was a 15 minute appointment but I felt unsafe.  That is what it comes down to.  Not like I was going to be attacked, but because I am at my most vulnerable now and my emotions are right on the surface, I am really sick and I was treated like I didn't know my own body and as if the doctor thought he knew my experience better than I do.    (I don't have to say anything about mommas and babies here do I...the arm of medical bullshit reaches to everyone)

So because Scott has a penis he had to deal with me the rest of the day.  I was miserable and upset and crying so hard I honestly didn't think I was going to be able to stop.  I guess I had my breaking point, done and done.  It carried over into today.  I emerged from my week of hibernation in the bedroom and felt overwhelmed............result=more tears.   I think I am dry now though......no more tears. I hit the wall but now I have climbed over it, done and done.

Oh..........and I refuse to see that oncologist again.

Life is rough.  Life with cancer is rough.........but it has rocks thrown in, so it can be dangerous.  I am barely holding myself together, very patchwork---duct tape, Elmer's glue, glue gun, string, bubble gum, the whole junk drawer....I have 3 more chemo treatments left, just 3 more.  Rocks can hurt like shit so I need to be careful, and one dumb ass doctors who throws rocks, well that just isn't an option for me.  Maybe he can get together with the bitch from Fred Meyer.................I'm just saying misery loves company.

As for me, misery doesn't live here.  I don't have the energy, I do have cancer after all--that is a full time job.  My plate is full, no room for misery.