A couple of days ago, I felt almost broken. Not fully broken mentally or physically. Just severely cracked.

I think I was feeling kind of peaceful. Kind of accepting. There wasn’t a reason to struggle or fret. I certainly wasn’t in the ‘everything will be okay’ camp but was just tired.

It takes a lot of energy to be upset and apprehensive all the time. I’m just tired.

But… after yesterday… I’m back on full on anxiety… depression… Maybe not depression but sound the klaxons. I’m at full red alert.

Thank god mom was there.

Okay.
So, I have this sore spot on my back that could have been infected. I got an appointment on the same day to see a nurse practitioner. Mom came with because I wanted her too.

If I have an infection on my spinal column, I knew I’d need some sort of support.

The nurse, Theresa, sent me to the ER. Since the ER and the local hospital are just a degrade above s*hit, off we went to Indianapolis. We were there for about a good seven or eight hours. It was almost an entire work shift.

In short –
Good news:
— The two CT scans showed that I don’t have an infection on my spine.

Bad news:
— I have a nodule on my upper left lung about the size of a penny. It could be cancer. It could be nothing. I need to be re-tested in three or four months to see if it grows. If it does, it’s cancer.

According to the internet, nodules on the upper part of the lung have more of a chance to be cancer than if they are in other areas.

Just cutting it out of me isn’t apparently an option. Insurance and it’s in a lung. Course, my lungs are compromised because of the f*ucking metal rods along my spine.

Bad news:
— Apparently, I’m developing pneumonia. But I’ve got to pick up some antibiotics for that. I’ll leave shortly to get it.

Good news – no infection.
Bad news – I could potentially have the same cancer that killed my dad.

The funny thing is that I don’t smoke. I don’t drink. The only chemicals I’m around is what I use to clean. I don’t eat a lot of processed meat…. which has been found to cause cancer.

So, I’m not sure where, when, why, or how. But I guess that doesn’t matter.

But, if mom wasn’t with me… if she didn’t go with me to see the doctor… if she wouldn’t have stopped by to look at my back… I wouldn’t have went. I probably wouldn’t have done anything.

Do I care so little about myself that I’m unable to actively seek medical help? … Yeah. Probably.

It’s disrespectful of those who care for me. Of those who rely on me.

Rationally, it doesn’t make sense. Survival is a basic instinct.

But…. for some reason… that’s a short circuit in me.

One day, mom isn’t going to be there.

Then what will I do? Become an adult? Care for myself? I’ve done such a great job so far. (That’s sarcasm by the way.)

What will I do?

During our hours of seemingly endless waiting, we talked about a lot of stuff. The neighbors. Their dogs. Her life. My life a little. Dad. What it was like for her when he had lung cancer and was sent home to die. How he was so proud that he didn’t want anyone to know. How he insisted that she worked because she had to take care of the family and how she cried at work.

Part fluff conversations with some meaningful bits tossed in. It was good and I seriously needed a distraction.

The last time I was at the ER at that hospital, they kept me for two weeks. … Then it was the psyche ward… then it was Charis Center.

I was having some bad flashbacks and was begging to be distracted.

I didn’t want to think and could literally feel myself shutting down. I just didn’t want to deal and go to sleep.

I don’t know what I’d do without her.

In other news — I had to take sexual harassment training. Yearly mandatory thing. Plowed through it this morning to help keep myself busy.

Odd observation:
– Nearly all of the examples centered around the LGBTQ community. Artie at the party being hit on by a drunk supervisor wasn’t an example. But Tess the trans who was a biological guy and wore make up with a dress was.

I also had an online appointment with Allison, a shrink. She seemed thrilled that she’s refinancing her house from 6% to 5% something. I tried to, rather poorly, explain to her that she’s refinancing all of the interest she has left to pay off from the first loan and have additional interest from the second. It’s really a bit of a scam, especially if she can afford the payments now and inflation is factored in.

That kind of took the wind away from her. She promised that she’ll look into it further, but I think she was under the impression that the interest from her current loan would just disappear and be replaced.

But the world doesn’t work like that.

Classes ended about a week ago. Maybe a little longer than that. Student Stacy is * still * trying to turn in assignments. I’m not accepting them. She went to her advisor who went to my boss’s boss.

I also got my yearly review which I didn’t read. I just signed off on it and went on. To quote the fat lib from Liberty Hangouts, “I don’t have time for that.”

I probably do but… at this point… I don’t care. The student can go to my boss’s boss. I don’t care if I got a bad review.

I ** should. ** It’s difficult to find another adjunct job and, although limited, this does provide gas money.

But I just didn’t care. They’re not going to hire me. I’m not going to get a raise.

At this point in time, I just simply don’t care despite everything.

Maybe that’s part of what being nearly broken means. Well… not so much now. I’m held together with used Juicy Fruit… I reunited and became on red alert anxiety…

I just don’t know.
I don’t know anything outside of mom, Jason, and others.

That’s a lot of trust but I don’t have a lot of trust to give or in myself.