I hate needles.  Really, really hate them.  I’m lucky that right now I only need to go for bloodwork every 2 months (every 6 months for my gp).  Every time I need to talk myself into going.  Today I didn’t take any money with me for parking so if the “lab” spots were taken(they’re free), I’d have to go back home.  Well, they were taken.  And I got half way back home and turned around, talking to myself the whole way.  There was a free spot when I got back.  And the bargaining.  I’ll treat myself after or I’ll get to go back to bed or I’ll buy myself some more yarn, or….

The anxiety ramps up in steps.  It starts the week before I go for bloodwork. All these questions in my head go round and round, over again.  Will I make it through the bloodwork without any issues?  Will the test results be ok?  Will this be the week I find out that the cancer is spreading again?  Then the day of the actual bloodwork the anxiety ramps up, getting ready and leaving my apartment. Waiting for my number to be called at the lab.  Waiting for the tech to come in and take my blood.  Waiting for the needle to go in.  Waiting for the 3 vials to be filled.  I don’t relax until I’m back in my car.  Then the anxiety hits me again because I know that tomorrow I see the oncologist and find out about the tests.  And I know he’ll be sending me for yet another CT.  Oh yay 😦

You’d think that after all this time I’d be ok with all of it but I’m not.  Instead of being ok, I’m getting worse with it all.

My friend is coming with me tomorrow like he did the last appointment I had with my oncologist.  I’m to the point where most of the time I’m just not emotionally strong enough to go by myself.  Nothing he can do by being there but it helps that he is.