Setting the scene:

~You find out you have a Greg in your chest on December 22nd, but knew on the 16th that there was a strong possibility of cancer. Your breasts were last checked as clean on August 22 so Greg has appeared and/or grown big enough to be detected in 4 months. You do the math that this jerk-bag is growing quickly.

~You can’t get surgery scheduled until January 12. That gives Greg about 4 weeks to flourish in your body since detection. You know that your scans have all come back clean, but is he slllloooowwwwwlllllyyy eeking around in the meantime?

~During the last 4 weeks, some bad things happen in your life. You lose a very dear loved one whom you can’t properly mourn because of Covid. Speaking of Covid, 2 of your kids get it and you haven’t been able to hug them in a week and life as you know it is upended by double quarantine life. The one kid who does not have Covid has his own mystery illness that no one can seem to figure out.

~Also, an inner, inner-circle family member is having real trouble with their Alzheimers. You are the target of many of the delusions and accusations. It is hurtful, maddening and devastating.

~END SCENE~

Ok so do you have that scenario in your head? Are you sitting within that reality?

Do you feel like you might careen of the edge of a large rollercoaster into oblivion? Just me?

There is a lot of research suggesting that cancer is turned on by stress, and I don’t mean ‘turned on’ in a Magic Mike way, I mean in a flipping a switch way. It is a cruel way of being able to blame yourself for your disease. We all want something to pin our diagnoses on. I don’t have any pre-cursors like genetic markers or poor lifestyle choices, but I do have stress and I have had a lot of it recently. Did I do this to myself? Did I invite Greg on the private plane without knowing it?

This time, where I am knowingly living with Greg, is chock full of mind-fuckery. I am scared every moment that he is starting to travel around my body like he is on a mega-yacht in the Mediterranean. With each stressor, and as you have felt in your own guided imagery above, there are many, I am picturing Cousin Greg on a rollercoaster just whizzing around my body. A glorious joyride of wrath through my lymph system, bones and organs.

I keep trying to remind myself that I need to be calm and reduce my stress. Then death, Covid, Alzheimers are like, ‘Hey bitch! We are also on the rollercoaster and we are ready to PARTAY!’.

I do not like rollercoasters. I am risk-averse which is actually just hilarious at this juncture.

Can anyone lead me to the merry-go-round??