April 30, 2015
Well, if I thought deciding to write a list of 100 things to celebrate would suddenly make everything all good, I was sorely mistaken.
There was a last minute opening to see Dr Taylor and the psychologist at BCSCF a few days later so I took it. I went in ready to fill them in on all that was going on with me physically and emotionally - not thinking this appointment would be any different than my other appointments.
I guess that's why I got blindsided.
It started out like any other appointment. I told them how I was still having a hard time. That my anxiety of recurrence was like a 24hr channel that just keeps playing. All day. All night. I told them how at my first doctor's appointment, my first follow up appointment, how I cried when we got to the part of the physical exam. The doctor hadn't even laid hands on me and the tears started and wouldn't stop. I was terrified.
Terrified she'd find something....bad.
I told them how stressful the echo cardio MRI was a few days later, which was being done a year post chemo to see if any damage had been done to my heart.
My heart.
I managed not to cry at that appointment, but any illusions that chemo might not have been so bad to my body were suddenly gone.
Then I filled them in on the panic attacks that started the two weeks or so prior to this very appointment. Always at night. I told them how alone I felt during these moments. How weak.
Especially the really bad one that struck as I was trying to shut my mind off because of a pain in my bladder...which was actually because it was full...(chemo damage likely). I started "self talking" (really losing it....) to calm myself down so I could sleep. It didn't warrant a hospital visit, so I decided to make a plan (in my mind) that I'd track the pain for a week or two and if I was still worried I'd make an appointment with the doctor. Then they could ultrasound if necessary - and BAM - full on panic attack at the image in my mind of me laying on that ultrasound bed, looking at the tech and trying to read her face as to if she was seeing anything sinister.
I got out of bed as my heart was still pounding and I felt like I was going to throw up, and a friend who is logical and a fellow survivor talked me down. Took 45 minutes, but within 15 minutes of the end of that chat I finally was able to sleep.
That was the worst one, but there were others.
I was watching Dr Taylor and the psychologist's face as I told them about this, but didn't see any major concern so I relaxed a bit. It was like admitting an embarrassing secret. But I felt better talking about it.
I rounded off this rather depressing conversation with the 100 things and the lack of self esteem issue that I was baffled about.
Dr Taylor then said 3 things that have stuck with me since, and caused a shift in my perception of everything I told her.
She didn't think I had a lack of self esteem. She believed everything was linked - that everything I was enduring was not a multitude of issues. Her thoughts were that my confidence was shattered when I was diagnosed. In everything. Myself. Doctors. Life.
That would explain why I couldn't ask family or friends for help with The List (of 100) - I didn't have confidence that they would react as I previously would have expected - before diagnosis.
It explains why at my physical exam, when all was good and there was no reason to think there was canser hanging around - that I was terrified. I had no confidence that the news could be good.
Same with the panic attacks being triggered by the ultrasound image in my mind. The very test that could (likely) confirm no sinister issues with my bladder cause me such intense fear because I had no confidence it could confirm all was good.
I wondered after if they could hear the 'click' as my perspective shifted and previously unclear pieces fell into place.
It also explained why I was so anxious to go riding with my team the first time - I had no confidence I could actually do it. But each time I go out with the team and complete the 30-36k ride, my confidence in my ability grows. I suddenly looked at all my 'issues' as something that needed to be rebuilt - step by step, like riding - and I saw the way to overcome them completely different. How could it be all or nothing? Confidence in something is like trust, once its lost you have to build it back up bit by bit. I could finally give myself a bit of breathing room. Time, experience and work would heal my broken confidence. I just had to start small and see it as steps.
I can't tell you what an eye opener this was. I've always done everything 110%, 1000 miles per hour, all in. Building confidence and earning trust are foreign to me. I've just never been the kind who doesn't assume it'll all work out. So I guess I'm in foreign territory.
As all this was clicking into place, she hit me with something I didn't see coming. It felt to a (much) lesser degree like when the doc said the words "it's breast canser".
"I'd like you to think about anxiety medication".
Whoa. Time out. WTF??
I'm a warrior, doc. I have demons - everyone does - but I just have to figure out how to slay them. Myself thank you very much...
I tried to keep the smile on my face, but despite my best efforts it was gone the second the word "medication" was out of her mouth. I really wish I wasn't so easy to read - which she clearly read the expression on my face because she launched into her thoughts before I could say anything.
"You've been through alot this last year. Alot. It's completely understandable that you're feeling so overwhelmed..."
I managed to get out "But I thought it was supposed to be hard? That this was normal. All along I've been told it's normal. Panic attacks can't hurt you..."
"You're right. Panic attacks can't hurt you...but they aren't helping you either. And yes, it's normal for it to be hard at this stage. But you're suffering."
Suffering? Me? I thought I was just spazzy. Hypochondriac maybe. Needed to get a grip. But suffering?
"It doesn't need to be so hard. The anxiety meds can just put things in a less intense range so you can handle things and not feel so overwhelmed. Just for 6-12 months, to get you through the rough stuff and take the edge off. You'll still feel anxious sometimes - it won't numb you - but it'll be within a manageable range. It wouldn't even be the full therapeutic dose - just very low dose. You're suffering and I think this would help."
Suffering. I rolled the word around in my head. I never thought about it that way. Was I suffering? Interesting.
And then I felt something I haven't felt in a very, very long time.
Compassion. For myself.
But I wasn't on board with the medication. I asked if I could think about it. And I mentioned how I wanted to really focus on exercising and doing some of the coping stuff we were taught in the Recovery group to see if it would help reduce the anxiety. She said the medication was just an option - I didn't have to do anything I wasn't comfortable with.
We made another appointment in a months time. My plan was to have an answer by then. I needed time to absorb this hour's worth of info that felt like a game changer. And decide how I felt about this new option now on the table.
Well, if I thought deciding to write a list of 100 things to celebrate would suddenly make everything all good, I was sorely mistaken.
There was a last minute opening to see Dr Taylor and the psychologist at BCSCF a few days later so I took it. I went in ready to fill them in on all that was going on with me physically and emotionally - not thinking this appointment would be any different than my other appointments.
I guess that's why I got blindsided.
It started out like any other appointment. I told them how I was still having a hard time. That my anxiety of recurrence was like a 24hr channel that just keeps playing. All day. All night. I told them how at my first doctor's appointment, my first follow up appointment, how I cried when we got to the part of the physical exam. The doctor hadn't even laid hands on me and the tears started and wouldn't stop. I was terrified.
Terrified she'd find something....bad.
I told them how stressful the echo cardio MRI was a few days later, which was being done a year post chemo to see if any damage had been done to my heart.
My heart.
I managed not to cry at that appointment, but any illusions that chemo might not have been so bad to my body were suddenly gone.
Then I filled them in on the panic attacks that started the two weeks or so prior to this very appointment. Always at night. I told them how alone I felt during these moments. How weak.
Especially the really bad one that struck as I was trying to shut my mind off because of a pain in my bladder...which was actually because it was full...(chemo damage likely). I started "self talking" (really losing it....) to calm myself down so I could sleep. It didn't warrant a hospital visit, so I decided to make a plan (in my mind) that I'd track the pain for a week or two and if I was still worried I'd make an appointment with the doctor. Then they could ultrasound if necessary - and BAM - full on panic attack at the image in my mind of me laying on that ultrasound bed, looking at the tech and trying to read her face as to if she was seeing anything sinister.
I got out of bed as my heart was still pounding and I felt like I was going to throw up, and a friend who is logical and a fellow survivor talked me down. Took 45 minutes, but within 15 minutes of the end of that chat I finally was able to sleep.
That was the worst one, but there were others.
I was watching Dr Taylor and the psychologist's face as I told them about this, but didn't see any major concern so I relaxed a bit. It was like admitting an embarrassing secret. But I felt better talking about it.
I rounded off this rather depressing conversation with the 100 things and the lack of self esteem issue that I was baffled about.
Dr Taylor then said 3 things that have stuck with me since, and caused a shift in my perception of everything I told her.
She didn't think I had a lack of self esteem. She believed everything was linked - that everything I was enduring was not a multitude of issues. Her thoughts were that my confidence was shattered when I was diagnosed. In everything. Myself. Doctors. Life.
That would explain why I couldn't ask family or friends for help with The List (of 100) - I didn't have confidence that they would react as I previously would have expected - before diagnosis.
It explains why at my physical exam, when all was good and there was no reason to think there was canser hanging around - that I was terrified. I had no confidence that the news could be good.
Same with the panic attacks being triggered by the ultrasound image in my mind. The very test that could (likely) confirm no sinister issues with my bladder cause me such intense fear because I had no confidence it could confirm all was good.
I wondered after if they could hear the 'click' as my perspective shifted and previously unclear pieces fell into place.
It also explained why I was so anxious to go riding with my team the first time - I had no confidence I could actually do it. But each time I go out with the team and complete the 30-36k ride, my confidence in my ability grows. I suddenly looked at all my 'issues' as something that needed to be rebuilt - step by step, like riding - and I saw the way to overcome them completely different. How could it be all or nothing? Confidence in something is like trust, once its lost you have to build it back up bit by bit. I could finally give myself a bit of breathing room. Time, experience and work would heal my broken confidence. I just had to start small and see it as steps.
I can't tell you what an eye opener this was. I've always done everything 110%, 1000 miles per hour, all in. Building confidence and earning trust are foreign to me. I've just never been the kind who doesn't assume it'll all work out. So I guess I'm in foreign territory.
As all this was clicking into place, she hit me with something I didn't see coming. It felt to a (much) lesser degree like when the doc said the words "it's breast canser".
"I'd like you to think about anxiety medication".
Whoa. Time out. WTF??
I'm a warrior, doc. I have demons - everyone does - but I just have to figure out how to slay them. Myself thank you very much...
I tried to keep the smile on my face, but despite my best efforts it was gone the second the word "medication" was out of her mouth. I really wish I wasn't so easy to read - which she clearly read the expression on my face because she launched into her thoughts before I could say anything.
"You've been through alot this last year. Alot. It's completely understandable that you're feeling so overwhelmed..."
I managed to get out "But I thought it was supposed to be hard? That this was normal. All along I've been told it's normal. Panic attacks can't hurt you..."
"You're right. Panic attacks can't hurt you...but they aren't helping you either. And yes, it's normal for it to be hard at this stage. But you're suffering."
Suffering? Me? I thought I was just spazzy. Hypochondriac maybe. Needed to get a grip. But suffering?
"It doesn't need to be so hard. The anxiety meds can just put things in a less intense range so you can handle things and not feel so overwhelmed. Just for 6-12 months, to get you through the rough stuff and take the edge off. You'll still feel anxious sometimes - it won't numb you - but it'll be within a manageable range. It wouldn't even be the full therapeutic dose - just very low dose. You're suffering and I think this would help."
Suffering. I rolled the word around in my head. I never thought about it that way. Was I suffering? Interesting.
And then I felt something I haven't felt in a very, very long time.
Compassion. For myself.
But I wasn't on board with the medication. I asked if I could think about it. And I mentioned how I wanted to really focus on exercising and doing some of the coping stuff we were taught in the Recovery group to see if it would help reduce the anxiety. She said the medication was just an option - I didn't have to do anything I wasn't comfortable with.
We made another appointment in a months time. My plan was to have an answer by then. I needed time to absorb this hour's worth of info that felt like a game changer. And decide how I felt about this new option now on the table.
Becauser of you - Reba & Kelly Clarkson (YouTube)
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