I Might Be A Psychic

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Doom, gloom, anxiety and a stalker in the shadows, I just could not shake the feelings I’ve been having over the past few weeks.

I thought today would put those feelings to rest, but as I walked what seemed like a plank into my doctor’s appointment to find out the results of my labs, I was confronted with those fears coming true.

“Your counts are elevated”, I think that’s what she said, because I went into an epic meltdown letting every bad feeling come to the surface.

My mind had me believing that I should run, tell my doctor that I’m done and ruin what little reputation I had left because of the way I was behaving, I think a few F bombs came out.

I stood up ready for my dramatic exit (my poor husband trying to hear the plan with a look of shear sadness across his face) and I said “I’ll do what’s needed to stay in remission”.

I’m not sure where that came from, the parking lot and a quick get a way seemed so much more inviting and a tantrum while doing it seemed even better.

But I do want to stay in remission and I listened to the plan.  Weekly steroids, a new weekly chemo added unto my existing one and a very good chance those labs will be normal again.

As I walked out the door heading towards infusion with tissues flying from my bag, a boy not small enough to be in a stroller with a mask on came strolling towards me.  He and his parents are my heroes.

I am the lucky one.

Some bad side effects to deal with, for a chance at remission the warriors I encounter would surely trade.

I discovered that my $9.99 minute psychic phone calls might not be such a good idea, because I’m not a psychic but a gal who was feeling the reality of Multiple Myeloma. The MM road is bumpy and I am not immune.

I am the lucky one.

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