With spring busting out all over, it's pretty easy to buy into the concept of Pronoia (aka the sneaking suspicion that the universe is actually conspiring FOR you). Somehow, much more than the new year, springtime always feels to me like a time for new hope and change. Maybe it's because it is my own personal new year or maybe it is just watching nature's cycle as the earth begins to reawaken, but even the rainy March days don't bring me down like the rainy days of say November or January.
It's been a busy month, but the part that stands out most for me about its early days was worrying about going to the doctor for follow up on some abnormal test results from back in the fall. I have the annoying habit of thinking that I can just push things that I don't want to think about out of my mind with no ill effects beyond forgetting. So, from about September - late February, I lived happily on the banks of the river Denial. Then, came the reminder and suddenly I was thinking about it again. A LOT.
By last Sunday, I was an utter mess of pendulous emotion that must have rendered me a truly delightful company. My poor mother got the brunt of it. Even I had to admit there was a problem when I started getting surly about not wanting to go to church. A low point was reached when I proclaimed "Fine! I'll just drop you off, but don't expect me to go in!" before commencing with the copious weeping.
It was at that point that I finally put two and two together and realized that I was a wee bit stressed about going to the doctor. There are times when it's really difficult to just say "I'm afraid", even though it would be so much easier for everyone concerned. Once she knew my crazy was a targeted crazy and not just garden variety high strung, my mom (who is awesome) suggested that we go for a drive out into the forest. Getting away definitely helped for a while, but by the day of my appointment, I was having again having weird dreams, had been on the verge of tears for a good 72 hours, and had myself so worked up that my blood pressure was hovering up around 160.
I'm still waiting for the results, but am feeling so much better now that the appointment is at least over. It was on Tuesday, and there's been no news yet, so I'm really hoping I'm getting a "everything's ok, see you in 6 months" card instead of the dreaded call. Realistically, if there's something wrong, at least it's been caught early, but I'm hoping that my pronoid fancies carry over to bad cells too. How did they go bad any way? Were they born bad or pushed to it? Did they get high on diet coke chemicals and mutate? Fall in with the wrong crowd? Succumb to peer pressure? Do they curse, wear little leather jackets and chain smoke? (I like to think so.) Whatever happened, it's making me think a lot more about what I put into my body and I'm back on my walking schedule, both of which seem very rebirthy new patterns to develop for spring and beyond.