same old tune

This post is out of order. I actuall wrote it before our trip to Houston. It should go before "A Miracle" that I just posted.

I sound like a broken record playing a tune that even I am sick of. I have nothing new to write about "scanxiety." I would think that after almost seven years of countless scans and waiting rooms, I would have mastered the art of waiting patiently.



I'm a terrible hypocrite. After glibly offering advice to hundreds of caregivers on how to cope with uncertainty and fear, the "under toad" sucks me down like a novice swimmer who who overestimated her ability to stay afloat.



Here we are five days from a trip to Houston--at least number thirty--and I've just figured out why I am anxious. There is a MONSTER clutching at my ankles doing his best to pull me down into the murky depths of depression. The surprising part is that he hasn't given up--and even more surprising that I haven't given in. But I am as sick of writing about it as you are undoubtedly sick of reading about it.