CT Scans and Potty Training. Gonna Be A Good Week!

A cancer diagnosis will introduce you to a lot of weird things. A new language, being one of them. Cancer involves a lot of strange vocabulary and phrases and confusing acronyms and abbreviations. 

When I first started poking my newly diagnosed head around online cancer forums, I found this somewhat bewildering. I would literally have to check Google 16 times just to get through a brief feed on breast prosthesis options. (�what does MBC mean?� �what does IBC mean?� �what does RADS mean?� Oh I give up.)

It was like installing Instagram on my phone ages after everyone else already had. Everything was so uncomfortably foreign. You become the geeky newbie in a classroom where everyone else is effortlessly hashtagging and making those weird boomerang clips. It takes a while to become fluent. But, eventually, you get the hang of it. ( I still don�t really get twitter, so if anyone�s willing to lend me some tips I�d be much obliged.)

#Ohmygoodness #WhereIsSheGoingWithThis? #WhyGodWhy #IsThatAllThereIs #PeggyLeeForeva

Ahem. I don�t know quite where I was going with that. At any rate, there�s a phrase that�s tossed around in cancerland called �scanxiety.� It�s exactly what it sounds like. Anxiety about scan results. In case you needed it spelled out. Paul is getting a CT scan in two days to check on how his tumors are behaving, and we�re slightly anxious. Just a tad jumpy, I�d say. On the nervous side.

It�s been like this ever since the day the shit hit the fan (for the second time.) So much is hinged on Paul�s scan results. They determine our next steps. They determine if our life is going to continue as is for a little while longer, or if it�s about to get a whole lot harder. 

We always want good news, duh. But we especially want good news this week. I don�t know if we can take more bad news. It would be pretty crummy of his tumors to be like �we see that your wife is having surgery in 2 weeks. Thing is, we�ve felt rather neglected lately, so we�re going to freak the hell out for a while. No hard feelings.�

Um, yes hard feelings! (>_<) Those dirty weasels.

So prayers, please. If you're the praying type.

You know, cancer has made doing a lot of things harder. Like being the mom I always thought I would be. Nothing like a visit to the pediatrician to make utterly clear how much I am slipping in that department. When the nurse asked how potty training was going, I sort of stammered/lied: �she um, sits on the potty sometimes?�

�OK. We�ll just put down that potty training has started.� One bold-faced lie typed into Ingrid�s chart, but:

And so we�ve finally resolved to go for it. My hope is that Ingrid is a fast learner and she can master the potty in this 2 week interval before surgery. Is that a pipedream, moms? I�m used to disappointments, so the pressure is minimal.

Tomorrow I start physical therapy. In actual reality though, I should be starting therapy therapy. Like with a shrink. But a blog is pretty much exactly the same thing, right? RIGHT??

Here's to another happy week of appointments! #cancerlife #cancerwife

hahahhahahaaaaaha ha ah ha.