4. Whomp Whomp

I love me a good pity party. Generally, these affairs tend to fall on days after something's been done to me -- an email attack from a client or coworker, a bout of bad Karma from the universe, a medically necessary but painful procedure, etc. Yesterday I endured the latter. I'm not much of a ninny, and can generally handle physical pain and medical torture. What I have trouble coping with is the emotion behind the visits.

Without boring you to death, I'll give you the abridged version: Girl starts seeing spots, girl is diagnosed with blood clot in eye, no underlying cause determined. Girl develops unrelated but alarming inflammation in same eye, again, no underlying cause can be determined. Girl goes on low-dose chemo and steroids for four months, becomes walking nightmare. Girl goes into remission. Girl develops new treatable problem, endures eye injections, is given clean bill of health.

Fast forward to yesterday: girl has relapsed, only 3 short weeks from being told that "everything looks perfect."

Even though the injections are no walk in the park, they're not as terrible as they sound. {Needles in eyes are never pleasant, regardless of numbing drops.} The worst part for me is the anxiety of never knowing if/when this condition will reappear. Due to the magical ability for the body to continually regenerate cells, both good and bad, I will always be dealing with this problem and subsequent injections for the rest of my life. {Or until they start creating new eyes in test tubes.} Logically, I know this could be worse. In fact, it was much worse last year. Emotionally, however, there's still a big chasm I need to cross before I feel comfortable saying "I'm grateful for this." I really vacillate between handling the situation with strength and grace, or being a complete brat and complaining about such rotten luck. {Think Nancy Kerrigan.}

From what I can gather, I seem to get these "relapses" about every 4-5 months. My hope moving forward is that I can start to bridge my pity gap and move towards an outlook that is one of realism, positivity, and grace, because no one likes a Debbie Downer. I want to remove the anxiety of waiting "for the other shoe to drop" and live in the present, being grateful that my treatment is quick and effective, and that the problem is not more widespread and damaging. Does this mean that I can sit on the couch after my treatments with a pint of Haagen-Daaz coffee ice cream? {Shhhhh. I like to pretend that it's vegan.}