The wait seems endless and
...inconsequential. Is it weird for life to go on? To get caught up in little things. To work late. To bake. Whilst really, the house is a mess because I have zero energy. Work is easier than dealing with my husband who is in the midst of a depressive episode triggered at least in part by my health. Doing things is easier than admitting something is wrong or getting up and getting the real jobs done. There’s a pink elephant dancing silently around my house and her name is cancer.
Yesterday my next appointment came through - and it’s not until the end of next month. I suppose I should be reassured by the lack of urgency but then I called to rearrange the time a little and the lady on the phone implied she’d have to check with the dr if she was going to make it any later. Ended up making it the day before instead. One less day of waiting. I also have been told to take someone with me. Is that normal? I never saw my first letter as the appointment was arranged over the phone.
It’s so likely to be nothing at all and yet I’m so so tired.