One thing I’m good at, post divorce, is riding out loss of control. I still don’t like it but I’ve developed a real understanding that I’m not in charge. So when things are falling apart around me, I know that at some point, they will come together again….even if it’s a bit disjointed when it does.
I’m waiting on the results of a biopsy this week. I’m not particularly stressed or phased by it. I’ve had it done before, a number of years ago. Unfortunately I’m prone to developing this pea sized lump that we women dread to find. The last one left of its own accord. I was a bit complacent in getting this one checked, thinking it would do the same. It may well do but there’s a length of time that’s sensible to wait and then there’s one that’s not.
The experience of a biopsy is never pleasant especially when it’s a male doctor and lady parts involved. I appreciate my doctor was a kind man, trying to make me comfortable but talking about my day with my bits hanging out was just not working for me. Thankfully, after a couple attempts, he left me to my own devices; humming the theme tune to Ghostbusters (I didn’t even realise I knew the theme tune to Ghostbusters, kindly doctor pointed it out).
I feel exhausted and whilst pretty hopeful that the biopsy is clear, I’m sure that there is something lacking. It’s not like me to turn down a night out, cancel on friends or have to take myself to bed at 9pm. Vitamin D deficiency, my sister in law thinks. Anaemia, my friend thinks. Overworked, my mum thinks. I don’t have the energy to think. Goodnight!