My mind and heart are racing, but they'll be no winner.
Waiting for a phone call that will determine your life is nerve-racking.
I've been here before.
Too many times.
Every treatment is terribly exciting, because it could cure me. But based on my experience, it won't.
There is little I can do to help the process, little I can do to find out what's going on.
I suspect that the reason I don't get anxious in most things, is because I'm so focused on this. I've learned to calm my mind, and ease my heart.
But there are moments that bend me out of joint. I've waited for phone calls for years:
"It can't be helped."
"They'll be another one."
"There always is."
The struggle is remembering that it's not me. It's something that happened to me.
In many ways my formative years developed around the notion that because of it, people treat me differently.
But I wish that were my only problem, because that I can deal with, I can affect.
But this.... I can't.
Information is my tool for success.
But it's a double-edged sword.
The more I know, the more I understand my limitations.
Every treatment means four chances.
But I've never been past my first chance.
To seize that feeling when I know my existence isn't burdensome. Was a flicker for brief moments in my life.
To say that depression follows right behind me doesn't give the stigma, the ailments, the fear a standing chance.
I grew up with this idea that I walk beside death. And he's been my least favorite friend this entire time.
But he's followed by something too.
What is harder to see is that hope, clarity, friendship and joy follow him.
Which means they're right here with me just as close as the others. But if I don't adjust my perspective, the angle makes them appear farther away, like a sideview mirror.
But they're here, I just have to remind myself.
They're always here.