Fear of the Unknown

For the last 10 days I have been walking around in a fog, waiting for this bad dream to end, so I can wake up and everything in my life will be normal again. Is this really happening?

I am so fortunate - I have a wonderful husband that I've been best friends with for nearly 30 years, even though we've only been married for four years. We were drinking buddies when I was young and wild. We had a blast, but were only friends, nothing more. So we have a solid foundation - we really LIKE each other! He has always been special to me - I've always loved the man from the day I met him back when I was only 23, and he was 30. We kept in touch on and off over the years after he moved to Virginia. He admitted he's always been in love with me - even way back then. We lost touch for 15 years, then when my 10-year marriage went very sour, I got in touch with him again. To make a long story short, after I separated from my ex, we ended up together, and he moved 3,000 miles across the country to be with me. Left his home, job, everything that he'd known for 20 years. For me. I was finally matured enough to realize he had been "the one" for me all along. I realized I'd always loved him, but was too caught up in partying and placing too much importance on the excitement of dating "bad boys" back then. I loved his personality, his zest for life, his humor, his gentle nature. But by the grace of God, we got a second chance. How many people get that in life? Here we are now - finally having found each other at the right time in our lives, and we are madly in love. We finish each other's sentences, read each other's thoughts and are inseparable. He is my rock and my comfort. Always there for me 100%. We constantly touch each other and gaze into each other's eyes. I've never had a relationship that could come close to comparing to what we have.

Anyway, we have 2 1/3 acres, two horses, four dogs, a cat, 10 parrots and a corn snake. No, we don't have a mansion, but a modular home. Nothing fancy by far. We are both retired, so there isn't much income, but are we happy? Happier than I could ever have dreamed possible. We have our private time away from each other in separate bedrooms three days a week (just during the day) and that gives us the alone time we both have to have to retain our sanity. You see, we were both the only children born to our parents. So that occasional solitude is important. Nevertheless, we hardly ever fight, or even have an argument. We are perfectly in tune, and we respect each other completely. I ride my horse, and he goes along with me on his quad. A strange sight we must be, but it bonds us, among many other rituals we have.

Well, 10 days ago I finally talked myself into keeping my appointment I'd made with an opthamologist. The sight in my left eye had been getting progressively worse for the last four years. Oh, I'd been to the optometrist every two years, just as I was supposed to, to have my exam. I thought I was doing the right thing. I mentioned the sight problems both times, and the doctor shrugged it off, saying I merely had a dominant eye (my right one). The next exam, two years later went the same. One eye was just dominant, he said, and that was normal. He did the glaucoma test, the periperal vision test and even x-rayed both eyes, and found nothing untoward. So I trusted him. I shouldn't have. It was obvious even to me, a layman, that something was wrong. My sight was definitely getting worse. So hence my trip to the opthamologist, which, in hindsight, I should have made at least two years prior. I was nervous - not knowing what to expect, but hopeful it would be something simple and treatable. After seeing first the office technican, then the optometrist in the building first, answering many questions and viewing eye charts, I was transferred to the opthamologist, who dilated both eyes, and then continued with more vision tests, lights in my eyes, etc. After maybe 45 minutes, and many questions later, the opthamologist hit me with a bomb.

I didn't expect it could be something that could possibly be life-threatening. I was not prepared. His approximate words to me were:

"Your pupils are not responding correctly to light. There is a 'disease process' going on that is affecting your optic nerve. You might have had a stroke. We need to do an MRI. It could be something bad."

I felt the blood leave my head, everything took on an unrealistic feel, I was numb, as if I were dreaming. My whole body felt like rubber, as if I would collapse at any second. I was floating. I looked at my husband sitting across the room and had an incredibly strong urge to run out of there and never look back. Of course, I knew what the "something bad" he had suggested meant. Possible brain tumor. He didn't say those words, and I'm glad he didn't. He said he could not see a tumor when he looked behind my eyes with the light, but only an MRI could define everything and give us a definite answer. I left that office with the MRI order in my hand, wringing my hands, shaking like a leaf and in complete, numbing shock.

I was afraid of getting an MRI - I'd never had one before. But luckily it was scheduled for only a week later, so I didn't have to stew over it for 2-3 weeks, as I'd feared. It was an open MRI, thank goodness, because I have claustrophia. It wasn't bad at all. The worst part was staying completely still for about 40 minutes total. The doctor gave me an injection of contrast when the MRI was halfway over. Thank goodness, no reaction to the injection. I think that was my worse fear about the test - that I'd have some awful reaction, allergic or my heart might start racing, since I have Mitral Valve Prolapse, and my heart is prone to acting up. Everything went smooth as butter. My husband held my hand and talked to me the entire time. That man is amazing.

That was Tuesday. They told me it would take 3-5 working days for me to get the results. On Thursday, only two days later, the imaging place called to ask if I wanted to pick up my MRI film results. Of course, that terrified me. Why did they want me to come get them? Why weren't they just mailed out to my doctor? Why did it take less than two days? Had something terrible been found? All these thoughts whirled thru my mind at warp speed. When I called the doctor's office, I found out this is standard procedure. The report is faxed to the doctor, then the patient picks up the films and hand carries them to the doctor for the follow-up visit. OK, so I ask her if they have received the report. She says she doesn't know, and will have to go try to find the report. I wanted to make sure it had been faxed to the doctor's office, in case it was something bad, and they needed to get me in to talk to the doctor right away. That was two hours ago that I called, and no one has yet called me back. My appointment for the follow-up is for the 13th - 10 days away. If they say they want me in sooner, that is going to completely freak me out. Of course I will assume the worst. But then again, no news is good news (most of the time). A friend also told me that if the results were really bad, the imaging place would have called the doctor's office right away. I sure hope that is true.

My God, I'm only 51 years old! I know these things can happen to someone in my age group, but I was hoping I'd be a lot older before anything serious happened. I've always had a high strung personality, but it seems to get more severe as I get older. For the last decade or so I've been getting debilitating panic attacks. I always wondered how in the world I would cope if something bad ever happened to me. How would I cope? How would I get from one day to the next, or even be able to function? I have a panic attack just entering a medical facility, let alone being told I have to be hospitalized, have surgery, etc. A knee surgery is one thing, but a tumor? Good grief. Just the thought paralyzes.

But you know, we are all stronger than we think. If I've learned anything in the last 10 days, that has been the big one. I am absolutely amazed at how well I've done. I've cried several times, of course, but only had two or three melt-downs in the last 10 days. I have my Xanax, and can't even imagine how I'd get thru this without it. I try to take it only twice a day, but lately its been three times. I only take it when I feel I can't go another minute without exploding in a heart wrenching crying or panic fit. And I have to protect my husband at all costs. He is the most important thing right now. He's sensitive, emotional, sweet and so concerned with me that he even anticipates my needs and wants. I can't stress him out any more than he already is, which must be monumental, although he tries his best to appear positive in my presence. At times he breaks down, but says its his anxiety although I know better. He is terrified of losing me. His feelings have to be a priority no matter how afraid I am. He's also having to take anxiety medication. Our lives are in a complete upheaval.

What if I'd had to wait three weeks to see an opthamologist, then 3 weeks for the MRI, then 2-3 weeks for results? I would have been on pins and needles for two months! Its only been 10 days, yet I feel like its been 10 weeks already. I realize I am very fortunate that I don't have to wait as long as many people do, how would I survive that long?

My husband sat there, holding my hand thruout the MRI, talking to me to calm me, and I can't even express to him what that did for me. There aren't a whole lot of husbands you can count on like that. To many of them nothing is more important than sitting on the couch, drinking beer and watching sports. To some, this is even more important than the birth of their own child. No matter what happened, though, my husband would be right by my side. He's already demonstrated that over and over. When I have a bad migraine, he's there, offering my cold pack, 7-up, anticipating whatever I might need or want. I have so many things to be grateful for!

What if I die? That is the most difficult part for me. But I do have to ask myself that question. Myself aside, its my husband I am tortured about. He has no parents - they both died within 3 months of each other. No siblings - he's an only child. He has no children - this is his first marriage. The remaining relatives he has are out of state, and have not kept in touch, for the most part. He would have virtually no one. I CAN'T leave him. When I had my melt-down yesterday, I told him just that. I CAN'T and I WON'T leave him. I refuse to. I have had no symptoms of either a stroke or a brain tumor, EXCEPT for my failing eyesight and my frequent migraines (but I've had migraines since my 20s - they are no stranger to me). I've had them worse for the last couple of years, but I've read that they frequently become worse when a woman is nearing menopause, so I thought nothing of it. I have no dizziness, double vision or vomiting. Nothing that would indicate a brain tumor. A bit of nausea, but that goes with migraines and stress. No problems with speech, no mental confusion, no numbness or anything that would indicate a stroke. A girlfriend reminded me of these things, and for that I am forever grateful.

But the fact remains that something is causing my optic nerve stress, and thus is why I am losing sight. Know what? I can even deal with losing my sight completely in that eye if it means I haven't had a stroke or have a brain tumor. I still have one good eye, and I can adjust. My sight in my left eye is the least of my worries right now. I just don't want to die and leave my husband alone!

Or my son. . . . he's 32. Sure, I had lost my mother when I was 18, and my dad shortly before I turned 30. But my son essentially has no father - he hasn't heard a word from him in 16 years. And he has very little family left except for me, and his twin sisters (who are 23 and only call him when they want something - they are very self-centered and selfish). He does have his wife and son, but still. . . . to lose his mother would be devastating. I raised him as a single mother for most of his life so we have a special bond. My son doesn't often show it, but he's very sensitive and soft on the inside.

Why do these things happen? I am blogging today in hopes this venting will help me to deal with what I must face. I have no choice but to face it. I have to go on - I can't just quit living. I can go to bed, pull the covers over my head, and stay there, but it won't make this go away. It wouldn't change anything. So, miraculously, I still go places with my husband, still walk the dogs and still tend to my house plants daily. I can't stop living. I never would have, for a second, believed I could be this strong. But you know what they say - Suffering Builds Character. And What Doesn't Kill you will Make you Stronger. God doesn't put us thru more than he thinks we can handle.

Upon awakening in the middle of the night is the worst time for me. The whole world is asleep, and my husband is softly snoring. Its still dark outside, and this is when my darkest thoughts intrude, although I try my best not to dwell on the "what ifs." We bought a dog recently from a breeder in Iowa, and she and I have been emailing nearly every day for the month we've had the dog. We have become friends. After I told her why I hadn't emailed in a few days, she confided in me that its a small world - she had just had an MRI a few days before I did because of her worsening migraines, and her doctor is thinking she has a tumor. Really is astounding. I had a dream about her last night, that our phone connection wasn't good, and I was only catching a word from her here and there. I kept asking her, "Are you OK? I need to know if you are OK!" But the connection was getting worse, and we couldn't understand each other. I started sobbing, saying her name over and over. She stopped talking, but I could hear the line was still open - she hadn't hung up. Now I have to email her and tell her about the dream. She can't even get a call from the doctor because of all the ice and snow storms there. The power has been out off and on for several days. She should have gotten her test results two days ago! And here I am, feeling sorry for myself! Yet, she says she has positive thoughts. How I wish I could be like her! People like that have such inner strength, courage, determination, all the above, and more.

Appreciate what you have today. No matter what, there is always someone worse off than you are. Stop, smell the roses (however corny that may sound), enjoy the sunset, feel the gentle breeze on your skin, if you love animals, bury your nose in your pet's neck and inhale his own special aroma. Enjoy each delicious meal, and eat it slowly, take time to just sit on your porch/patio, whatever, and listen to the birds in the trees, watch the quail and roadrunners run by (if you live in the desert like I do) listen to all the different sounds the mourning doves, crows and Mocking birds make. Buy a table-top fountain and just stop now and then and listen to the water trickling. Take deep breaths and meditate. I will post when I finally get my results. But for right now - here's to positive thinking!

Menopause and anxiety

All I can think of to say right now is. . . .WOW. Well, that's not entirely true, as I can think of plenty more to say about my state of mind and body. All the old jokes about menopause and the hush-hush about it - whispering in the kitchen when I was a kid. Now its happening to me. And it ain't funny by any stretch of the imagination. That's the understatement of the year, by the way! I always somehow thought I'd breeze through it, and it was just another minor obstacle in life that was lurking in the back of my mind - not worth more than a passing thought. I was wrong, so very wrong about my ability to be stalwart and strong. As they say, old age is not for the faint of heart, especially for women.

My anxiety started coming on about eleven years ago when my heart palpitations were especially bad. They had come and gone for many years, with often months or years in between of no symptoms. To make a long story short, I finally got a diagnosis from a cardiologist after over 25 years of not knowing what was wrong with me. Mitral Valve Prolapse, a common condtiion, and usually not dangerous, according to the doctor. Yeah. . . easy for him to say! When you can hardly breathe, and your heart is irregular every other beat, and you end up in the ER because it won't go back to a regular rhythm - now THAT'S scary! At least to me it is. Terrifying, paralyzing. . . I wake up in the middle of the night with my heart pounding in my ears so loud that it sounds like a drum. It does all kinds of gymnastics that someone who has never experienced it could never even imagine. I think that at any moment its going to become hopelessly irregular and then stop. . . and I'll be dead. Just like that. I become too terrified to even move. Of course, that sets off a panic attack, so everything becomes even more intense. The walls start closing in on me. I wonder if I'm not going crazy and will have to be institutionalized. Of course, it always comes to an end sooner or later. Maybe a couple of hours later, but eventually. Then, when I look back on it I realize I overreacted. I should just shrug my shoulders and say, "Oh well," and continue on like the mellow, laid back, easy going people that I've known. Oh. . . if only I could be like them!

Anyway, the moment peri-menopause reared its ugly head, my anxiety came back 10-fold. It never really went away, but everything just suddenly ballooned out of control. The migraines are more severe and frequent, sometimes lasting for weeks at a time. I have to pee all the time, it seems. The irritability and moodiness, the insomnia, the nightmares. . . the list goes on and on. But by far the very worst are the anxiety and the fear that my heart will go ballistic again at any moment. The doctor gave me a prescription for Xanax, and I find I have to take it twice a day most of the time. This is so unreal. My periods are still fairly regular most of the time, and each month I hope it will be the last. I won't be sorry to see it go, believe me. After thirty seven years of my monthly "friend," I'm more than ready to say goodbye forever.

My hormones are in an upheaval - I understand that. Its just that the symptoms are going to kill me before anything else does! I wake up with a violent start, imagining I'm seeing things in the dark in my bedroom. I start talking to my husband about nonsense, fully convinced that I'm wide awake. But realizing the next morning that I wasn't awake at all. In its own way, its very disturbing to be convinced you are awake when you are, in fact, very much asleep. Then I feel the electricity start in my chest, and it slowly spreads out my arms and into my hands. Its warm, almost hot. Then my whole body becomes unbearably hot. I throw off the covers and can practically feel steam pouring off me. The tingling stops after a while, and then I start getting extremely cold. Its all normal, they say. The Xanax keeps the frequent nightmares a little less frequent, and thank goodness for that. I am no longer afraid to close my eyes and go to sleep every night.

I am strong, I know that. I know I mentioned something before about doubting my strength, but how could I have had the fortitude to get through what I have without strength? As the waves of panic swell and gather in preparation to crash over my head, I've learned to relax into it and let it do with me as it will. It hasn't been easy. In fact, its been one of the hardest things I've ever had to do in my life. And I've had some other types of trials in life, so I'm not blind to human weakness/strength in any way. Three bad marriages, three divorces, my mother died before I was even 19, my father died violently eleven years later. My first husband was physically abusive. So yes. . . I've experienced the darker side of life, but I've survived. If I'm meant to die in that moment, there is nothing I can do about it anyway, so might as well try to accept what is happening. I dive right in. Nevertheless, the waves throw me head over heels, to the point to where I don't know where the surface is, in order to breathe. Let go - this too shall pass. I have a list of phrases I can say to myself when my panic is at its peak. Its a long, hard, rough road, but in the end I know, as with all difficult times, it will make me stronger.