Home > Enough about me. > My 12 Hour War With Cancer: A Kind Of Funny Story!

My 12 Hour War With Cancer: A Kind Of Funny Story!

Many of you know that I have Bi-Polar disorder and I’ve been taking medication for a little over a year. In my case, along with the mood disorder comes an extreme obsession with death. Before I started the medication, the previous 30 to 40 years of my life involved non stop thoughts about suicide. I would spend hours of my day thinking of different ways to kill myself, as well as day dreaming about the reactions it would cause from the people I know. My obsession is what finally drove me into the hospital last year, and as a result, somebody finally figured out what was wrong with me, and got me on the right meds.

After I started my medication, the pendulum swung the other way; now I have an unhealthy fear of death. Sometimes it gets so bad that I can’t sleep at night, because I’m afraid I’ll wake up the next morning dead. I obsess, about the when and the how, and my loved ones that I would be leaving behind, as well as what I would be missing. I mean c’mon, the next season of Dexter is about to start, and it’s football season. I just simply do not have time to die at this point!

Early last week, I had my quarterly check up with my mental health provider. As a precaution, she told me to get a blood test in order to make sure that my medication was not having an adverse effect on my blood sugar and cholesterol. I go the next day to get the blood drawn, and by that night I’m getting a somewhat frantic voice mail from her telling me that there are “some values to the results that she doesn’t understand,” and that I should get into my doctor right away. Of course my mind immediately kicks into panic mode, and I start thinking that this is the beginning of the end for me. The other thought that occurred to me is “why in the fuck is my psychiatrist leaving a panicky call about test results on the voice mail of someone who is constantly obsessed about death? I mean, am I wrong here? What the fuck was she thinking? Leaving me a voice mail that my blood test came back weird, is like leaving Michele Bachmann a voice mail that an army of gay atheist unemployed socialists are on their way to her house to fuck her husband and raid her fridge. Panic is a guaranteed reaction.

The next morning, I make an appointment with my doctor, and I have my psychiatrist fax me the test results so I can take them in with me. At this point my morbid fear of death is getting the best of me, so it’s off to the internet we go, in order to try to make some sense of the results. Really bad idea! After checking out some medical websites, all indications were that I had Leukemia. What the fuck. I immediately go into full blown panic attack mode, which did not make for a very pleasant evening. My emotions got the best of me, and I couldn’t help but get pissed that I was going to die before Bengals owner Mike Brown does.

After all this, it turns out that there was nothing in the blood screen that indicates cancer. My doctor told me that I have a less than one percent chance of having it, and that the test results were an indication that I more likely have some condition that is related to my anemia, which I’ve had all my life. The end result was a drawing of 6 more vials of blood, and I’m waiting for the results of that screen. I also got the “BTW, you need to quit smoking and lose some weight” lecture, because it just wouldn’t be a productive visit to the doctor without getting that talk. Of course, after I left the doctor, my partner and I had a huge laugh over the whole over reacting to the blood test results thing.

I’ve re learned a couple of lessons from this; First off, never look up your test results on the internet on your own. Hell, if you Google the word Anemia, you’ll get a hundred thousand results that are guaranteed to scare the holy shit out of you. Second, I seriously have to get over this morbid obsession with death. I’m only 46 years old, and I’m guessing I still have a lot left in the tank. We’re all born with an expiration date: That’s just the way it is; there is absolutely no point in worrying about what I can’t control. I have plenty of other shit to worry about, like finances, or my job, or my psychotic son finding his way back to my house and killing me. Wait, what? Ah fuck!

  1. September 20, 2011 at 11:57 am

    You lead an interesting life!


  2. September 20, 2011 at 2:33 pm

    Leaving me a voice mail that my blood test came back weird, is like leaving Michele Bachmann a voice mail that an army of gay atheist unemployed socialists are on their way to her house to fuck her husband and raid her fridge. Panic is a guaranteed reaction.

    ROTFLMAO 😆 She really should have left a generic “call me back” message.

    I hate those quarterly checkups. I always wish I could do them by webcam. 😀


    • September 20, 2011 at 4:10 pm

      Webcam checkups would be very cool, at least as far as dealing with a mental health provider. I have to make an hour round trip in the middle of the work day for a ten minute conversation. Apparently the conversations aren’t sinking in with her though, or she wouldn’t have left the scary message on the intrusive death thoughts guy’s voice mail 😉


  3. September 20, 2011 at 9:36 pm

    .Lol, I know if I let myself, will do exactly that. My brain can dredge up more stuff being wrong with me. You get a pain in one spot, it is one thing, then when a new pain starts somewhere else, your scared of what that could mean. And it is always the worst case scenario.I am hoping that it isn’t that serious. Miss you guys!


  4. September 29, 2011 at 12:08 pm

    What an awful experience, and how typical of the way medical practice affects our lives. It turns us all into patients, in two senses—we are all constantly under medical surveillance, and we have to (endlessly) wait for medical pronouncements.
    I’m happy that the medical priesthood has pronounced you almost certainly leukemia free. Thanks for sharing your story.


    • September 30, 2011 at 5:11 pm

      Thanks! I think it is a perfect example of how Doctors need to be a little careful about their bedside manner. A message such as what I received from my mental health care provider may not be a big deal, can be totally be blown out of proportion (as in my case) by another. Doctors really need to take the time to understand the psyche of their patients.


  5. October 19, 2011 at 12:37 am

    Boy am I glad I read the whole story!

    BTTFH, I had been missing you over at TFC and decided to stop by to see if you were ok.

    Although a thorough reading of your post left me less anxious, the fact is, you haven’t posted on your blog since then.

    I hope all is well in your world and I’ll be checking back often.

    BTW, I really like your sense of humor!


    • October 19, 2011 at 7:01 am

      Hi Kay.

      Sorry I haven’t been around much; between work and school, I have been overwhelmed, and not very motivated to write in what little free time I have. I’m doing ok, just a little burned out. I will be back though!


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