Anxiety

I don't write much (or well) when I'm anxious. It seems that all the energy that would go into putting down words hits the anxiety wall and the process doesn't result in much, if anything, in the way of readable work. And I am in prime anxiety territory at the moment - I'm going to get the results of the next PSA test next Tuesday. I haven't thought much about what it means if I get a high number (bad) or a low number (good). I've been avoiding thinking about it, which may not be good, but that's the way it's been.

Of course, when you have cancer (or any Life Threatening Disease) a lot of time and energy goes into avoidance. First and foremost, for those of us who are not quite strong enough to stare death in the face on an everyday basis and have the luxury of not currently feeling terrible, there is the avoidance of the inevitable (which tends to seem a lot more inevitable when you're forced to think about it everyday). For some of us, it's not the end that's the problem as much as the fear of the messy, pain-filled, horrible path that it may take to get to that end.

And then there's the anxiety of just plain not knowing what's going to happen. And that occurs from the moment that you get the phone call telling you that you're sick onward. It's particularly bad between the time that you have tests and when you get the results (and the news about the next tack on what's likely to happen to you). During this period, you're absolutely powerless and, if you have any tendency to want to control your life, you go anywhere from being sleep deprived to being perpetually groggy to hanging from the ceiling.

Anxiety. All part of the process of the Life Threatening Disease. During these periods, I try to think of my old friend Dan Brennan who passed so many years ago from testicular cancer. Toward the end, he wore a tee shirt everyday that said: "More Fun Today." Today, I could use such a tee shirt. I'll probably need it until next Tuesday.