I'm Not Dying

Last night I heard back from the scanning centre about my abdominal MRI -- it was basically normal. No gallstones, no bile duct issues, a healthy pancreas and that benign cyst (once again) on my spleen. So that's a relief.

Y'all, I am not kidding when I say that two or three weeks ago, I thought I was dying.

You see, I may appear sane, but deep down, I really am a crazy person. Every year or two I will suddenly decide that I have some dread disease. In this most recent case, I initially thought I had lung cancer, which morphed into worry about pancreatic cancer, driven by an urgent imperative to find it NOW while I could still get early treatment. What brings these episodes on, I have no idea. I suppose it's generalized anxiety manifesting in a physical form. I did have a conversation with my boss several weeks ago in which she told me about two friends of hers (our age) diagnosed with lung and pancreatic cancer, so that may have been the trigger, although I wasn't aware of feeling anxious when we talked.

At any rate, I have learned to be skeptical of any symptoms I feel that aren't objectively observable -- in other words, that another person can't measure or perceive. If I have a fever or rash, I know I'm sick. If I simply hurt in some vague way, it's entirely possible (perhaps probable) I'm making it all up, or misattributing a minor pain to a major condition.

Nonetheless I'll then go to the doctor and get a test or two -- which gives me a sense of control -- and that's usually enough to make me relax. At this point my entire torso has been examined pretty thoroughly so I'd say I'm good for another couple of years.

(And like I said in an earlier post, I paid for my two recent scans out of my own pocket at a private scanning center, so I don't think I can be accused of wasting NHS resources.)

Meanwhile, my stomach discomfort has lifted over the past several days, so I imagine that antacid medication and my dietary changes are doing their job -- in addition to me calming down, which will certainly help. Apparently the only followup I need is to have a conversation with the doctor about my blood lipids and cholesterol. I suppose it's not entirely a bad thing that an annual anxiety attack prompts me to get a physical.

Of course, some day I will be dying -- but let's cross that bridge when we come to it, shall we?

In other news, we had a staff and faculty holiday party in the library yesterday afternoon, so we closed slightly early. I didn't stick around for the party, though. It's funny how my enthusiasm for such events has waned. This is partly because I don't want to expose myself to a bunch of germs before flying to Florida, but I also think it's age. There was a time when free champagne from my employer would have been an irresistible draw, but now, I'd just as soon lie on the couch with Olga and watch a rerun of "That Girl."

(Photo: Belsize Park, last week.)