All screwed up

My sister called today and asked, "Are you okay??" after reading yesterday's entry, and it made me feel bad that I left it hanging like that.

I'd written it early yesterday when I was feeling pretty upset about everything, but I feel better today and didn't want to just pick up where I left off. I talked to a friend last night who told me that I have a tendency to expect the worst when faced with something like this, and I definitely do.

I trace it back several years to finding a lump inside my mouth, on the inside of my lower lip. A hard little lump like a pea, and it totally freaked me out. Until then, I'd always assumed that if something happened to me, like getting cancer, I'd be strong and tough and serene, one of those women that glide through it with grace and dignity, you know, lying on my deathbed, telling everyone not to worry . . .

Because I'd always been able to be strong for other people. But I found out that most of us can be strong for other people--it's easy, well, maybe not easy, but simpler, maybe, to be strong for other people, to take on their burdens as if they were your own. But they're not your own, and you can't know how it's going to affect you until it happens.

And the first time it happened to me--the lump in my mouth--I totally panicked. My immediate thought was cancer, and on my face, and I immediately started thinking about being disfigured. I called my dentist because I didn't know who else to call, and they had me come in immediately, which, of course, also scared me. I saw an oral surgeon, who removed it--a cyst--it was benign, and nothing to worry about.

Then I had the skin cancer scares--one actually being pre-cancerous--and of course the breast cancer scare, and now this. I do tend to overreact and panic before I have all the facts. I mostly panic inside; I don't necessarily share it with everyone I come into contact with. My parents, for instance: when I talk to them I totally downplay it, assure them that everything's fine and that I'm just telling them so they'll know what's going on, but I'm sure they're not fooled. They know exactly what I'm doing, because they do the same thing to me. But that's okay. That's what you're supposed to do.

Or, I don't know, maybe you're not. Maybe you're not supposed to protect the people you love from being worried about you, because they worry about you anyway. But I don't think anything is accomplished by wailing and whining about it, other than making other people uncomfortable. So yes, you should share your worries and concerns, but as much as possible, I try to share them in a matter-of-fact way, and try to only fall apart in private.

So anyway, I'm much better today. Last night I went to the gym, and was reading Family Circle while I rode the stationary bike, and started reading an article about women with mentally disabled siblings, and had to stop reading, because if I hadn't, I would have been sitting there bawling. Oh, well, I did sit there bawling, and felt like an idiot. This, I assume, is another manifestation of my hormones being all screwed up.

Hopefully (and surely) that's all it is. In any event, I won't know anything more for about a week and a half, so I've made up my mind not to worry about it (as much as I'm able), and definitely not to look up anything else on the internet because, while there is a wealth of information out there, it's not all good information. And much of it isn't intended for the lay person. I'm all in favor of getting as much information as possible, but I also realize that sometimes I need to protect myself from it. That information is all well and good, but sometimes it's just too much.

I think I was a little overwhelmed yesterday. Today is better.