Well, I feel like a doofus. I got all ready for my MRI-guided biopsy, etc. today (packed up laptop, book, knitting; wore my cool robot socks), and headed over to the hospital, only to find that my appt. is actually Thursday instead of Tuesday (and my follow-up doctor appt. is Fri instead of Wed). I'm guessing this one is entirely my fault -- I was talking on the cell phone while driving when they called to schedule it (safely, hands-free), and I didn't have any good way to make notes at the time -- I thought I'd remember for the twenty minutes until I got home, but apparently not. Sigh.
In some ways, it's just as well -- my cold has moved to the hacking cough stage, and I was awake most of the night and feel terrible right now. I'm going to try to rest for a while, and then maybe see if I can find some cough suppressant that actually works. Jed swears by the kind with codeine in it, which I haven't tried myself; normally I just tough it out with cough drops and tea, but I'm getting a bit desperate.
Still, annoying. I think part of the lack of sleep was stress over this last procedure -- I keep trying to be zen about the cancer thing, and mostly it's worked, but I think the six weeks of diagnostic procedures are starting to get to me. Little jagged bolts of anxiety wearing away at what had been a central core of stability and calm. I just want to be DONE with this stage, and move on to the next one; I want to know how chemo is going to affect me, so I can at least somewhat plan the next six months.
Two days. I can survive two more days, I'm pretty sure.