Wow. Two Years.

I don't necessarily want to do another "oh, here's what happened two years ago today..." post, but I did want to ruminate on a couple of things.  I mean, it's not like I sit around and think hmmmm, I wonder how many days it's been since my surgical adventures.  :)  But there is something about seeing the date on my desk calendar that makes me think twice.

Anyway, I can hardly believe two years have gone by since my surgery madness!  In some ways, it seems like yesterday and I'm still getting used to new body parts!  But, in some ways, it's just the way things are and the ways things have always been.  Strange.  I do find myself, though, sometimes thinking of myself 'before' and 'after.' 

I will admit that another reason to 'reminisce' is that having a post-implant MRI on Friday did bring back many unpleasant memories.  I've been back to that building a dozen times, but going to the testing floor?  Uncomfortable.  Dr Vera Wang had said it was fine to have an MRI to make sure my implants are in good shape, but Dr Julie Halston did NOT want me to have one.  She said it was unnecessary.  The winner this round was Dr Pay in Advance, the biggest worrywort of an oncologist ever.  She has been hot for me to have an MRI as a 'baseline' test for anything that might come further down the line.  Because one of my pathology reports showed a suspicious five cells that may have migrated elsewhere, she wants to make sure they aren't planting themselves behind my implants.  She says there's an infinitesimal chance that will happen, but better safe than sorry.  Right.  Naturally, it panics me.  Every twinge around my implants causes me to stop and hold my breath.  And those phantom itches?  Drive.Me.Nuts. 

Every time I talked to someone, I made sure to mention my implants.  I don't think the MRI scheduler was too thrilled with my paranoia, but hello, I wanted to make sure they were careful around the implants!  You break 'em, you bought 'em!  She tried to tell me they didn't compress, but I've had my share of MRIs in the past.  They totally compress, to make sure nothing moves during the test.

My original appointment was at 5:30, but because of the incoming storm, they called and asked if I'd like to come in at 2 instead.  I said sure.  But then I didn't even get in to the MRI room until around 3:45.  So dumb.  I realize they were probably scrambling to get more people in early, but man.  Sitting around and sitting around is not good for my imagination.  I imagine all sorts of bad things in those waiting rooms - imaginary conversations that usually end with Dr Pay in Advance saying "oh, let's do some chemo.  just in case."  Oh, and the very nice girl who couldn't find my vein for the IV?  Sigh.

I hate MRIs.  I totally believe a man invented this test.  You completely throw your dignity out the window to lie on a table, crawl on your belly and try to put the objects of the test through a couple of holes.  Interestingly, this time, they had me put my arms up over my head, instead of at my sides.  I wonder if that's because implants don't naturally hang and keeping arms up will keep them in the right position?  I don't know.  It was vaguely more comfortable, though it sorta creeped me out because it reminded me of Jill Kinmont in The Other Side of the Mountain.  After she was paralyzed.  Shudder.  Moving on.  During the test, they had put a headset on me and I listened to some classical music, though it's hard to hear the music over all the noise the MRI machine makes.  I also like to count to distract myself.  I would've distracted myself by thinking of the pleasant gathering I had originally planned for afterward, but the stupid bad weather put the kibosh on that.  So I had to have a nerve-wracking test AND miss out on drinks with my dear ones.  Double dumb.

OK.  Putting stupid scary medical tests out of my brain.  Moving on.  I can also hardly believe it's been two years since I had a nice white tile floor in my kitchen!  I'm so lazy, I haven't replaced those dingy fire-stained tiles.  Though I don't go in my kitchen all that much anymore.  I so need to work on that.  Cooking for myself: good.  Ordering in via the genius that is the Seamless phone app:  bad.  And expensive.  I would be ever so rich if I didn't eat...

And realizing that it's been two years since I've talked with 'friends' who suddenly stopped contacting me and dropped me from their lives once I shared what was happening, is also freaky to me.  I'm generally pretty good at judging people and selecting friends.  I wonder if there's significance to the fact that these particular people who dumped me were all straight men.  Not that I had romantic feelings about any of them, but still.  I know it reflects on them more than me, but it still makes me sad and causes me to worry about a whole myriad of other things.  Who can I trust?  Can I ever really share?  Again:  before and after.  Will that feeling ever go away?  And will I ever stop looking at the calendar in February and taking a deep breath?  Probably not, i guess...