I officially give up.

Called my Doctor regarding the results of the latest thryoid bloodwork.

Brief history: I was on 137 while I was on birth control. After going off birth control, the Doctor determined that I was too low, and upped me to 150. I felt weird on it, headaches, but how much of that was worrying my cancer had come back, that it had spread to my brain, or equally depressing thoughts, or that maybe it was just a sudden discovery of migraines? So he drops me to 125. And I sleep, finally, but I’m sick, too, and I worry that the low thryoid is affecting that.

So I call him and he says, yeah, your near 10% low, but not abnormally low, and now in no danger of osteoperosis, and there can be a lot of variation in the actual dosage in the pills themselves, sometimes up to 15% difference, depending on the manufacturer. So, we’ll keep it there.

So am I low, or not? Am I well, or not? Am I going to get fat again? Am I going to want to sleep all the time? Can I work? Will I feel happy and well? Will I be tired and unable to concentrate?

Why did this have to happen to me? WHY? Why did I ever have to get cancer and why can’t I be just damned thankful they could remove it and that it’s the end of it … no chemo, no therapy. Why do I have to obsess over everything, worry that the shadow of death is always on my shoulder, whispering, waiting, knowing the time comes but not telling me. Or worse, telling me, and I don’t know the signs, won’t speak of them soon enough, and then it’s too late.

Sorry … this is probably in the realm of stuff that I should be writing in my paper journal, but my fingers are flying and I don’t want to lose this. Reminds me that I should get about printing the remains of the Ashtal LJ and this one and get them into that big binder of mine. Paranoia, of course, that I will lose words, is something that’s always with me. Not like these words matter, I guess, in the great scheme of things … I just wish I knew with some sort of faith that there was a scheme, and that I have a place in it, and that it’s not ending tomorrow, or next week. I want to take for granted that I have years to go yet, to not think so much about the ending but the journey in between.

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