The Face of Anger is Upon Us
Hello Everyone,
While I'll continue to blog, I first have to get something out on the table. It's been suggested to me that my blogging in such a public way (as in on Facebook, Twitter) might be a tad inappropriate ... 1) that some people don't want to hear about the ongoing saga of an illness, 2) that it might negatively impact my attraction of future clients, and 3) that it might mean I've "lost it" and am actually ignoring my need to take care of myself by thinking I need to care about everyone else.
So, please chime in and comment about that.
People who know me well, know this is how I operate. I'm open, honest, authentic and I always lead with my desire to be helpful to others ... to inspire them. But, this time, maybe this is more therapy for me than helpful to others. Not being in total 100% control of my mind these days, let me know what you think.
I'll keep on blogging and you can keep on coming here... but, depending on the feedback, I might STOP listing the blogs on public social media sites.
That being said, I will share a bit of my last couple of days with you.
When dealing with a serious illness, and especially in the early phases of not having too much information, it's easy to get into "what if" mode -- to spiral down the slippery slope of all the possibilities of what it is, how bad it is, the impact, etc.
Well, guilty as charged. In the space of "not knowing" .. that's my tendency. And, being somewwhat analytical, it's easy for me to think of everything ... from the simple to the absolute worst-possible scenario. I spent a lot of time climbing up and down that slope.
Yesterday turned out to be a fiasco... and I can laugh about some of it now.
It was MRI day. Now, first of all, I'm a bit claustrophobic. I temper it .. manage to be okay on airplanes, in elevators... but never like to sit inside (in the middle) of a row in a movie or play if I can help it ... want the aisle where I can get up and out if need be.
So, when they told me I had to be into the closed MRI tube, as opposed to the open one, I was not a happy camper. I immediately got drugs ... the legal kind, to curb the anxiety. They helped.
There were a bunch of disorganized gaffes when I first showed up, but then I went to the lower inner sanctum where the monstrous machine is. First, they had to put an intravenous tube in my arm (which they never told me beforehand.) She tried one arm, couldn't get a good vein (no I havent' ruined my veins by drug abuse over the years ... they're just tiny.) So, then she poked the other arm. Yea! It worked.
In the "room" .. it was freezing. They lied me face-down, with my boobs hanging down and my face in a sort of like catcher's mitt contraption and then put my arms above my head. Talk about awkward. At least they covered my shivering body with a blanket. The greatest news was .. being face down, I couldn't see the tight quarters I was about to slide into. My arms could feel the closeness as we went in, but that was it. And, they slid me in feet first, so my head was at the outside edge. I just kept my eyes closed. They pumped music into earphones, but the clanking (sounded like construction on the streets of NY) sounds far out-noised (is that a word?) the music. I kept myself calm by counting the sounds. It worked. The test was supposed to be 40 minutes. But, about half way through, the machine "froze" .. sort of like when our computer does that. They told me to stay still, not move, or we'd have to start over. They pulled me out in to the light for a bit... but I couldn't move. They rebooted and eventually we finished. But, I was in that God-awful contraption in one position for over an hour and a half. The DRUGS .. MUST have been working. Thanks .. to whichever pharmaceutical company that makes it!!! When they finished, I was so stiff .. they literally had to pull me out .. as in extract me from the position.
Why is it that stuff like that happens to me? Forget the cancer ... I just wanna know why a machine that HARDLY EVER stops, froze up for me? What's that about? Needless to say, I couldn't wait to get out of there.
But, now, we'll have all the results .. of that and everything else and go off to the surgeon's office tomorrow. That's when we'll know the beast or the blessing we're dealing with and I'll be able to get out of the land of "not knowing." I'll keep you posted.
Here's an important awareness I got later yesterday ...There are people in your life that can't handle what's going on with you. Well, that's not the awareness .. I knew that. I did get, however, that you have to be entirely open and explain to them how much you need them to listen and NOT try to censor you. For example. I am a pragmatist and I see all options. I see that anything is possible here -- from a simple procedure to a much more complicated one. People are telling me I should NOT be thinking the worst, but only affirm the best option. I, on the other hand, have to talk it all through and eventually I will get calmer and hope for the best. It's my way of processing. I wasn't clear about that and got into a heated and unpleasant conversation with people who love me .. and eventually I got angry. Now, I do know that anger is part of the process... but I was over the top. If I had just explained to them that all I needed was the safety of being able to express all of it and have them just listen ... it could have worked. So, as in coaching ... when I ask permission to coach someone ... I "should" have also asked my loved ones .. "Can I just vent and have you listen?" I learned a great lesson and now am mending the fence and apologizing for how aggressive I got.
Point: Always speak clearly about what you need before you start spewing it all out. Take care of yourself by being able to rant but make sure you protect those listening as well.
So, that's it for today.
Please, please, please .... let me know what you think about me being public Or any other comments.
Your support and comments are so helpful right now.
Hugs, and have a great day,
ann
While I'll continue to blog, I first have to get something out on the table. It's been suggested to me that my blogging in such a public way (as in on Facebook, Twitter) might be a tad inappropriate ... 1) that some people don't want to hear about the ongoing saga of an illness, 2) that it might negatively impact my attraction of future clients, and 3) that it might mean I've "lost it" and am actually ignoring my need to take care of myself by thinking I need to care about everyone else.
So, please chime in and comment about that.
People who know me well, know this is how I operate. I'm open, honest, authentic and I always lead with my desire to be helpful to others ... to inspire them. But, this time, maybe this is more therapy for me than helpful to others. Not being in total 100% control of my mind these days, let me know what you think.
I'll keep on blogging and you can keep on coming here... but, depending on the feedback, I might STOP listing the blogs on public social media sites.
That being said, I will share a bit of my last couple of days with you.
When dealing with a serious illness, and especially in the early phases of not having too much information, it's easy to get into "what if" mode -- to spiral down the slippery slope of all the possibilities of what it is, how bad it is, the impact, etc.
Well, guilty as charged. In the space of "not knowing" .. that's my tendency. And, being somewwhat analytical, it's easy for me to think of everything ... from the simple to the absolute worst-possible scenario. I spent a lot of time climbing up and down that slope.
Yesterday turned out to be a fiasco... and I can laugh about some of it now.
It was MRI day. Now, first of all, I'm a bit claustrophobic. I temper it .. manage to be okay on airplanes, in elevators... but never like to sit inside (in the middle) of a row in a movie or play if I can help it ... want the aisle where I can get up and out if need be.
So, when they told me I had to be into the closed MRI tube, as opposed to the open one, I was not a happy camper. I immediately got drugs ... the legal kind, to curb the anxiety. They helped.
There were a bunch of disorganized gaffes when I first showed up, but then I went to the lower inner sanctum where the monstrous machine is. First, they had to put an intravenous tube in my arm (which they never told me beforehand.) She tried one arm, couldn't get a good vein (no I havent' ruined my veins by drug abuse over the years ... they're just tiny.) So, then she poked the other arm. Yea! It worked.
In the "room" .. it was freezing. They lied me face-down, with my boobs hanging down and my face in a sort of like catcher's mitt contraption and then put my arms above my head. Talk about awkward. At least they covered my shivering body with a blanket. The greatest news was .. being face down, I couldn't see the tight quarters I was about to slide into. My arms could feel the closeness as we went in, but that was it. And, they slid me in feet first, so my head was at the outside edge. I just kept my eyes closed. They pumped music into earphones, but the clanking (sounded like construction on the streets of NY) sounds far out-noised (is that a word?) the music. I kept myself calm by counting the sounds. It worked. The test was supposed to be 40 minutes. But, about half way through, the machine "froze" .. sort of like when our computer does that. They told me to stay still, not move, or we'd have to start over. They pulled me out in to the light for a bit... but I couldn't move. They rebooted and eventually we finished. But, I was in that God-awful contraption in one position for over an hour and a half. The DRUGS .. MUST have been working. Thanks .. to whichever pharmaceutical company that makes it!!! When they finished, I was so stiff .. they literally had to pull me out .. as in extract me from the position.
Why is it that stuff like that happens to me? Forget the cancer ... I just wanna know why a machine that HARDLY EVER stops, froze up for me? What's that about? Needless to say, I couldn't wait to get out of there.
But, now, we'll have all the results .. of that and everything else and go off to the surgeon's office tomorrow. That's when we'll know the beast or the blessing we're dealing with and I'll be able to get out of the land of "not knowing." I'll keep you posted.
Here's an important awareness I got later yesterday ...There are people in your life that can't handle what's going on with you. Well, that's not the awareness .. I knew that. I did get, however, that you have to be entirely open and explain to them how much you need them to listen and NOT try to censor you. For example. I am a pragmatist and I see all options. I see that anything is possible here -- from a simple procedure to a much more complicated one. People are telling me I should NOT be thinking the worst, but only affirm the best option. I, on the other hand, have to talk it all through and eventually I will get calmer and hope for the best. It's my way of processing. I wasn't clear about that and got into a heated and unpleasant conversation with people who love me .. and eventually I got angry. Now, I do know that anger is part of the process... but I was over the top. If I had just explained to them that all I needed was the safety of being able to express all of it and have them just listen ... it could have worked. So, as in coaching ... when I ask permission to coach someone ... I "should" have also asked my loved ones .. "Can I just vent and have you listen?" I learned a great lesson and now am mending the fence and apologizing for how aggressive I got.
Point: Always speak clearly about what you need before you start spewing it all out. Take care of yourself by being able to rant but make sure you protect those listening as well.
So, that's it for today.
Please, please, please .... let me know what you think about me being public Or any other comments.
Your support and comments are so helpful right now.
Hugs, and have a great day,
ann
Labels: anger, breast cancer, not knowing
posted by Ann Fry, Head Boomer at
1:20 PM
1 Comments
