So today was the next baseline test – the Pulmonary Function Test. At least I think that’s what the “P” in “PFT” was – my mind fades at times.
Today as I was getting ready to go to the hospital I had my first… let’s say misgivings. I’m not up to fear just yet. I figure fear will come on the first treatment day when they insert the port and the chemo begins. For now, I’ll just call what I’m experiencing “misgivings”.
I mean, granted, this form of the Big C seems to be massively treatable/curable from what we’ve heard from all of our friends writing in. But you know, a lot of parachutists will tell you how safe and easy it is to jump out of an airplane, but I’ll still have misgivings about strapping on a parachute.
Truthfully, I suppose it’s the whole thought of me having cancer finally sinking in. The thought of how ridiculous it all seems. My doctors are basically going to poison my body over the course of the next six months in order to cure me. Am I the only one who thinks that’s a little odd?
Regardless of oddity, I’m doing everything they say, ’cause I want this over and out of my body. The chemo starts on the 25th, so I have plenty of time to harbor misgivings and such.
After I got home and returned some phone calls (one for the visting nurse and one for my boss letting him know I’m still hoping to come in to work today, but have to wait on the nurse), I had my first of what I’m sure will be many breakdowns. This was just a little crying jag – I guess that would be the first instance of it all sinking in.
So far though, the scariest part of this is the sound of me crying.