Raindrops keep falling......

It has been overcast all day.  And now the sun is getting low in the sky.  Dusk is imminent and there is a glow, a luminescence to the world.  The greyness makes the green of the garden even greener.  But my heart is heavy and it has been for many months now.

I have been a stressed little gal all my life. Super charged. Hyper. Active. Hyper-Active.

I have watched, friends, family and colleagues crumble under the pressure of life.  I kept going.

I have had 9 of the top 10 life stressors dogging my steps for most of the past 30 years. I kept going.

I have achieved. I have worked. I have dreamed and I have compromised. And I have kept going.

Suddenly I didn't want to keep going.  Suddenly I was scared for my sanity.  I really was. Suddenly, and for the first time in my life I was afraid I wasn't going to be able to get up the next morning.  Suddenly I was sitting in front of the TV at night and feeling my grip slip.

I went to work each day. I worked, I talked, I laughed, I mentored and I sometimes growled.  But I always looked the same. Yet I didn't feel the same.  Sometimes a panic would grip me and I was terrified that I was going to collapse. I was terrified people would see me collapse. I was terrified. I would go outside and walk up and down the carpark till I had put some oxygen back into my blood and the trembling stopped.  Then I went back to being me - the me I have always been and never liked.  The martyr.

As I sit here now I know I have pushed all this into the background. I know I am in tenuous control. But I also know that one more disaster in my life right now will implode me.  I have withdrawn into myself and the funny thing is no one has noticed.  The more troubled I am, the happier my cardboard exterior becomes.

My treatment of my depression is to make myself create.  Craft, cooking, writing, chores- yes chores.  I set myself little goals each day - and I mean little.  I learned the hard way to stop setting impossible goals.  Impossible goals unfulfilled fuel the anguish inside.  Possible goals chip away at the despair.

So, I have started chipping. Today I resolved to take a nap, do a load of washing - only one - and find the half knitted scarf from last winter and put it next to my armchair.  I also resolved not to cook dinner and to stay in my pyjamas all day.

Mission accomplished. 

It also helped that I was able to chat to my bestie, Kim Kollert, for a few minutes today on Yahoo.  She is in Oregon, USA but when we chat it feels like she is in the room. I miss her.

So, new mission.  Blog myself out of this funk.

What I would really like is to hear your stories of a time when the weight of the world was so heavy you almost couldn't breathe.

What I would really like is to know that I am not alone in this.    That others have felt the vice grip on their chest, the suffocation of panic and the fear that it will never get better.

I am not going to medicate my way out of it. Not yet.  I am going to work my way out of it. Or at least try.  I have done it before many times, but it was never this bad, more of a despondency than a depression. A temporary setback rather than a flat out crash.

Well it's time to get out into the garage.  The other tactic to overcoming this state of affairs is fitness.  Since I have rheumatoid arthritis jogging is out of the question, but I am already developing some major biceps and quads lifting weights - OK, ok little ones. Jeff is lifting 150 kilos in a dead lift. I can lift 50kgs.  But I am doing it. It helps the new knee too so that is good.

Well the bench press awaits.  You know? Just writing all this has made me feel a little bit better.

Thanks for reading this far........ Bless.

Life is a game of DodgeBall...

So.... 2 days ago hubby comes home with a slight medical problem I had a lot of fun with at his expense.  But then it was the second time in 6 months so this time no mucking around and off to the doctor the next morning with him.

That was yesterday.  Doctor says "hmm we need an ultrasound".

So off to what should have given me more ammo for fun tonight with jokes about KY jelly in certain nether regions being wasted.

That was this morning.

Tonight I sit here trying sooooooo darned hard not to cry.  We have each taken a corner of the room and the big fat white howling elephant in the room has a name that starts with "C".

Out of the blue.  Out of nowhere.

A swelling in the groin = possible cancer on the kidney.  6 months ago there was nothing there. Now a 2-inch thing that looks like fairy floss - cotton candy for the Americans in the wings - is carcinoma-like.

Jeff is 44 years old.

We met on March 21, 2001 when I travelled to upstate New York to meet a friend - him.

He proposed on April 19 2001.

He moved to Melbourne to be with me in February 2002.

We got married April 19 2011 on our 10th anniversary from the first proposal.

I didn't want a relationship with a man so much younger than me.  I didn't want a relationship - period!  But he was persuasive.

I didn't want to lumber him with a woman 9 years older who might become infirm and need looking after.  I must be psychic because 4 years after he came here I was diagnosed with  rheumatoid arthritis.  Not a death sentence, but a life sentence.  After that I didn't want to marry him because I didn't want him to become my nursemaid. I am proud that way.

Now I sit here and I am scared to death.  Not scared that I will lose my carer, but that I will lose my husband.  After making him wait 10 years and not wanting to be a Mrs again - it is suddenly so precious to me.

My stomach won't settle, my heart is palpitating.  I am telling myself it will turn out to just be a cyst.  I am telling that to myself.  But then I remember how the ultrasonographer wouldn't let him leave and then came out and told him to go straight back to the doctor, right then and there, and handed him the films and a letter.

I joke to myself that it will be a false alarm and we will laugh tomorrow and then I remember that the Doctor said the 'c' word and dialled the Urologist right then and there and booked us in for tomorrow.

I am trying to stay calm but I just can't.  Kim met Jeff 10 years ago as he travelled through LAX to Melbourne.  Kim's daughter is at this moment undergoing chemo. I need to talk to her but she is sleeping right now.

I need to talk to someone - anyone - who is not inside the family. I don't want to panic the family but my face won't cooperate.

This time tomorrow I sooooooo want to be saying 'phew - false alarm'.  But I am so so so so very very scared right now.

One year ago, almost, I was laughing as we cut our wedding cake. I can't even remember why I was laughing now, but I was in a fit of giggles.  A blushing bride at 52, never ever having believed that I could ever find joy in life after my history.

Well the bottom line is this.  If it is a false alarm I will post late tomorrow night.  And if it is not.......well, I'm not religious but KAT I may need some of your prayers.

Not looking for sympathy my friends - but sooooo needed to unload this somewhere.  I have had a lot of friends and family succumb, I watch TV and hear all the talk.  But no one EVER mentioned the mind numbing fear that makes you nauseous and incapable of rational thought while you wait for the final diagnosis.

Kimmy - NOW I REALLY know what you are going through.

Fingers, toes and eyes all crossed for tomorrow.