"I don't want to hear anymore"

These are the words that came out of my mouth as I felt the familiar coldness in my head which could only mean one thing. Panic. I needed to focus on getting the anxiety under control before it had me in a complete state of terror.

One of the horrible things about suffering from depression and anxiety is that hearing the worst case scenerio feeds the monster.

Yesterday morning was my first hospital appointment since having my Sentinel Node Biopsy, and the doctor was being incredibly honest and straightforward. Don't get me wrong, I like honesty, but as the saying goes "The truth hurts".  Or in my case "You can't handle the truth!".

I have now been told that if Melanoma comes back to haunt me then the prognosis would not be very good. He then went on to talk about the worst case scenerios which led to me telling him to stop. Paul was also feeling concern, over me getting twitchy and also what we were hearing. It was then that the surgeon realised that the good side of things needed to be voiced. So the positives I have discovered are that even though they can never be 100% sure that the cancer did not break off and go anywhere else, they are pretty confident this is not the case. Melanoma thicker than 1mm is very very bad, but even though mine was 2.3mm they did manage to cut it all out and it did not invade my nodes which is a good sign. Because I am "young, healthy and have no history of this disease" my prognosis right now is good. Most people they see who are in similiar stages as myself end up being discharged after 5 years and being fine. I just need to keep a very close eye on my skin and always go to my 3 monthly checkups without fail.

My survival rate is 90%, so why is it that the 10% weighs heavily on my mind? Since that appointment I have felt fear, angst, sadness and paranoia. Is it the existing Mental Health issues that comtribute to this, or are these feelings normal for someone in my shoes (or barefeet as the case is)? It is incredibly difficult to distinguish where the line is. Should I not be happy that I have a very good high survival chance? Is it selfish to want 100% instead of 90%? I am happy that my survival rate is so high, and I do realise that my chances are pretty damn good, but that fear just seems to stay lurking under the surface and that is something I have no idea on how to deal with.

I had a Mental Health appointment this morning, but dammit, it was cancelled. And this was one appointment I so desperately needed!  So, what to do when oneself is at loose ends and feeling out of sorts?  A day out with Paul, Wyatt and the 2 dogs ended up being the agenda.  I have never been one for colour, unless you consider black to be one, but somehow I now have a white summer skirt and a white/blue striped singlet amongst the clothing I own.  Black attracts the sun.  White does not.  You do the math.  Before we left the house this morning, I made sure sunscreen was used.  And then I reapplied it to myself in the car as the sun became brighter.  I probably looked like an idiotic fool sitting there in the passenger seat with my feet up on the dash and flashing my undies to the world, but I figured I would rather have random strangers see my undies than take the risk of getting even the slightest sunburn.  I then started feeling paranoid about being exposed to the brightness in the sky and have come to the conclusion that winter is safest.

The sky started to change this evening and we ended up with lovely cooling drizzle, so I took advantage and did some gardening.  Gardening in light rainfall is actually quite refreshing and there is no fear of the sun doing its worse.  Does that make me insane?  Crazy?  Or just carefully cautious?