Friday, July 13, 2007
This vacation has been a wonderful interlude, very relaxing and comforting… until last night.
I always reach a point during travel when I wish I were home. I start thinking of the tasks I haven’t finished, the things left unattended. My mind departs the trip before my body is ready to get in the car/plane/train. I start feeling anxious and antsy, anticipating the next transition.
Yesterday morning I woke up and felt a lump under my skin next to the mediport in my shoulder. It didn’t hurt, wasn't red, and didn’t show signs of infection, but I was concerned it might be a blood clot that would interfere with my IV treatment scheduled for Monday morning. My mind went immediately to my medical support team in New York.
I called my doctor, and the doctor who implanted the port. I spoke to several people who all seemed fairly unconcerned with the situation. I don’t have to rush home, but rather, can have the surgeon check it before I go to the doctor’s office to start treatment. That’s a relief.
I don’t know what contributed most to how I felt once I got into bed last night: the mediport incident, my anxiety about travel, or the state of my life in general. I tossed and turned until I finally fell asleep, then spent the rest of the night feeling chased, running from some vague terror.
I’ve always taken pride in the fact that I’m not particularly a worrier. I’ve managed to stay clear of anxiety much of my life by refusing to worry about things that hadn' yet grown into problems.
Time to get on the road….