KallaMouse
02-08-16, 22:09
This is my current state of emergency, but it's my typical pattern for anything medically related.
1. Teen daughter tells me she noticed a lump under her armpit while shaving in the shower. I look at it and see that it looks like she nicked herself. And yes, there's a lump. I smile through the terror as I tell her it's probably an ingrown hair.
2. I walk in the kitchen and tell my husband that I'm going to start panicking now and to please go easy on me. This ain't my first rodeo. I know how it's going to go down.
3. I Google and find out that swollen lymph nodes in the armpits are quite common in teen girls learning how to shave who nick themselves. Doesn't matter. I start researching cancer treatments.
4. Finally Monday morning rolls around and I bring her to the doctor. (First thing, I might add.) I'm unsatisfied with their statement that they are "90% sure" that it's an infection. I'm even more concerned that they want to bring her in for a follow-up in a week to be sure all is well. Because apparently an overwhelming probability of not cancer and due diligence are cause for panic.
5. I start her on the prescribed antibiotics and check the lymph node for shrinkage with every dose until my husband tells me to stop being neurotic. It's as if he doesn't know me at all.
6. During a moment of lucidness this morning I accepted that possibly, it might actually just be an infection. Which got me thinking of all the nasty things that could have been on the razor that nicked her that gave her the infection. Which got me thinking about HIV. No, I don't have HIV. Nor does my husband. But maybe the tests we took years ago were wrong.
7. The lymph node has still not shrunk, which I know is fine because it's only been a day since she went to the doctor. Logically, I know that it can take weeks for a lymph node to go down. Logically, I know I should believe the doctor who said that the lump is movable, even though I didn't check for that myself and thought it was fixed. Logically, I know that my daughter isn't lying when she says it's painful when she presses on it. Logically, I know that because the swollen lymph node is right next to what looked to be an angry nick from shaving, was a movable lump, and was painful when pressed, that it's very, very, most likely infection. And most of the time I can fake normalcy and make it through the day.
But really...my stress level is so high due to how I perceive these types of events. (And make up new ones that don't exist, such as random HIV infection.)
8. Commence worrying about stressing myself into a heart attack. And, by the way, my own 20-year resident enlarged lymph node in my neck has decided to sympathy swell. So either I've been unconsciously touching it and irritated it, or our household is carrying some sort of rare infection that is making its way through all of us from youngest to oldest. Probably not likely, but it's what I'll think about now until dinner.
It's tongue-in-cheek, but really, I've been this way for years and it's exhausting.
1. Teen daughter tells me she noticed a lump under her armpit while shaving in the shower. I look at it and see that it looks like she nicked herself. And yes, there's a lump. I smile through the terror as I tell her it's probably an ingrown hair.
2. I walk in the kitchen and tell my husband that I'm going to start panicking now and to please go easy on me. This ain't my first rodeo. I know how it's going to go down.
3. I Google and find out that swollen lymph nodes in the armpits are quite common in teen girls learning how to shave who nick themselves. Doesn't matter. I start researching cancer treatments.
4. Finally Monday morning rolls around and I bring her to the doctor. (First thing, I might add.) I'm unsatisfied with their statement that they are "90% sure" that it's an infection. I'm even more concerned that they want to bring her in for a follow-up in a week to be sure all is well. Because apparently an overwhelming probability of not cancer and due diligence are cause for panic.
5. I start her on the prescribed antibiotics and check the lymph node for shrinkage with every dose until my husband tells me to stop being neurotic. It's as if he doesn't know me at all.
6. During a moment of lucidness this morning I accepted that possibly, it might actually just be an infection. Which got me thinking of all the nasty things that could have been on the razor that nicked her that gave her the infection. Which got me thinking about HIV. No, I don't have HIV. Nor does my husband. But maybe the tests we took years ago were wrong.
7. The lymph node has still not shrunk, which I know is fine because it's only been a day since she went to the doctor. Logically, I know that it can take weeks for a lymph node to go down. Logically, I know I should believe the doctor who said that the lump is movable, even though I didn't check for that myself and thought it was fixed. Logically, I know that my daughter isn't lying when she says it's painful when she presses on it. Logically, I know that because the swollen lymph node is right next to what looked to be an angry nick from shaving, was a movable lump, and was painful when pressed, that it's very, very, most likely infection. And most of the time I can fake normalcy and make it through the day.
But really...my stress level is so high due to how I perceive these types of events. (And make up new ones that don't exist, such as random HIV infection.)
8. Commence worrying about stressing myself into a heart attack. And, by the way, my own 20-year resident enlarged lymph node in my neck has decided to sympathy swell. So either I've been unconsciously touching it and irritated it, or our household is carrying some sort of rare infection that is making its way through all of us from youngest to oldest. Probably not likely, but it's what I'll think about now until dinner.
It's tongue-in-cheek, but really, I've been this way for years and it's exhausting.