Crumbling all around me

It just occurred to me, just now, that I am starting to freak out about my mammogram next Tuesday, July 29th at 12:15 Central time. We moved this mammogram up from September on the theory that I would be able to get the most out of my time off if it wasn't in anticipation of my whole world crumbling all around me again. The anticipation of these appointments is horrible. I keep thinking it has gotten better, but it hasn't. I am freaking out an entire week in advance.

I just try not to think about it. I try. And I think about it anyway. And what I think about is not something I can describe. What I feel is not something I can describe either. I've tried before and it isn't possible.

And when I tried to describe it before, this is what I said: "It's like hanging out with someone, that really means a lot to you. And you know that it's the last time you will hang out with them for a really long time, maybe ever. This might be goodbye, in fact, it probably is. But you don't like the idea of it, or the word even - you find it impossible to say, so you try to ignore that fact while it crowds out everything else until it's the only thing you can think about. The harder you try to ignore it, the more aware of it you are.

This person means so much to you that you count down the time you have left. You count down the days, the hours, right down to the minutes, the whole time anticipating that moment when you have to let go of them. This person means so much to you that you just desperately want to enjoy every second, so you try to, you focus on it. You concentrate on it, the minutes, you hear the seconds ticking even. You are desperate to make it last. You try so hard to make those last days and hours so perfect that you fail to enjoy it at all. Before you know it, it's over.

You've wasted the entire time anticipating the inevitable end. And you've anticipated it so hard that you missed the very thing you most wanted to savor. You beg for just a little more time, just a few more minutes - as if a few more minutes before the end can really mean anything or make any difference. You just don't want it to be over. You want to stop time.

Every second of the days that lead up to one of these appointments is just like this - it's like the last moment you will have with someone, and you know that it's over and you just don't want it to be, but you don't have any control over it, and try as you might to enjoy it, you can't because all you can think about is the inevitable ending. Just try to imagine the very worst possible thing that could happen to you - and how your life will be ripped out from underneath you when it happens - and you know that when it happens nothing will ever be the same again. And imagine you know just exactly when it's going to happen and how much time you have until then. And imagine what living in those moments is like - the impossibility of it."

Living in the anticipation of it is almost unbearable. The feelings, intolerable. And I have nothing to numb them.

My doctor describes it like this - she says it's like walking around with a hatchet hanging right above your head, and you don't know whether or when it's going to drop.

I am trying to live in spite of this. I feel like I have progressed no where.