It's after midnight and I'm sitting in a hotel room in Boston and my stomach is in knots. Anxiety. It's back. I know I will be fine, but in the meantime, well I'm struggling a bit.
My husband has his yearly colonoscopy tomorrow to make sure that he is still in remission, and to check for colon cancer. The really weird thing is that I don't even think I'm worried about tomorrow's test results. He has no symptoms, so I'm sure he's still in remission. I would also be very surprised if the doctor finds anything cancerous.
I think I'm suffering from a case of bad memories, if that makes any sense. Most of the time, we are able to forget that he is sick. However, having to go in for tests just brings me back to December of 2010 and all the terrible memories of his horrible flare. I know I sound like a broken record about this subject. I feel like I should be past this by now. But I'm not.
And so I sit in my hotel room, trying to ignore the sick feeling in my gut. It's just anxiety. It's just a feeling, nothing more. That's what I keep telling myself.
|One of my favorite Boston buildings|