And so it begins...

My mother says I should do this and because I think I should start doing some things differently, I am actually following her advice for once. Can we not tell her?

So let me catch this story up to speed in the most efficient way possible...

I got back with my ex, this time for real, and I decided to go on birth control for the first time in my life. About the time he was breaking up with me because he needed to do drugs more than he needed to be with me, I found out that I had this abnormal papsmear. After a couple of rounds of miscommunication I got the news that I have cervical cancer. I am 29, a single mother, almost finished with grad school, 7 years clean addict, child of a dead father, child of a single mother, and now I am a cancer patient. There are plenty of places I could write from, but I think it might be fun to let you guess which one of my issues guides me from day to day.

On Thursday, June 19, 2008 I went to the UT Family Practice Clinic for a test called a colposcopy as well as a biopsy. Did I mention that I don't have health insurance? Oh, well, I don't. I was able to get onto a grant given to the state of Tennessee to cover this test, so I am very happy about that. As soon as this test comes back, I will be eligible for expedited TennCare.

So I had the test. It was excruciating. The doctors don't talk, the nurses are as kind as they can be, and more things that I could hold in two hands were shoved elbow deep into my cancer coated cervix. Seriously.

So now I wait. It's Saturday and I am sitting here allowing myself to think about the cancer, but I don't usually do this. Lately I have been watching movies. Today I have watched 4. I have also been driving without a destination. Sometimes I do have a place in mind, but that is not a requirement. Yesterday I drove to Alabama and back. Today I drove around town and ended up at a bookstore. I have been going to Memphis a lot, too.

I guess there are already good things that have happened. I have gotten back into going to NA meetings. The people are fantastic and the possibility for inspiration seems more likely at a meeting than on my couch. Even though inspiration has happened from here before. I have been making the trek at least once a week even though it has been as much as three times a week. I am just that committed to not thinking about this.

I sound like a jerk. Maybe I am. I am afraid of dying alone. There I said it. Every person that I am has that one fear. The student, the mother, the addict, the daughter, and now the patient are all afraid. It's too much fear. How can I not be afraid? I guess I can write it all down and see if that helps.