Doctor Day

Today is my first "annual" oncology checkup with Dr. DaSilva. I note that there is always a huge underlying sense of fear and foreboding, carefully wrapped up in a perky exterior of good-sport confidence, on Doctor Day. On these days, I remember that I'm a cancer patient, now and forever.

I used to think of myself as a healthy person. I still do, whenever I manage to forget for a little while that my breasts decided to go all nuclear on me, despite my doing all the "right" things like diet and exercise and self-exams and mammograms. Those pseudo "preventive measures" seem so much like a pathetic exercise in self-delusion now.

It does no good to dwell, of course. Reality bites, and there is nothing I can do to change what was, what is, and what will come in the future.

I get really down on Doctor Day, can you tell? But I go, mentally placing one foot in front of the other, plodding along to greet my fate, whatever it will be. Waiting for the professional pronouncement of sentence or reprieve, at least for another four months. Stuffing the fear down and not allowing it voice or existence, lest it take over my thoughts and my life, even for a day.

An internet friend said last year, "Welcome to the 'Sucks to Have an Oncologist' Club!" My sentiments exactly.