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Infuriation, stepwise.

Bit by bit, day by day, my big appointment draws nearer. I'm going up to Philly on Friday to see some specialists, two of the best available, and find out exactly what's coming next. Surgery? Surveillance? Chemo?

As I've said before, most likely it'll be surgery. The big scary one. With the slicing my whole belly open and lifting of organs and snipping out of a dozen little lymph nodes all nestled up against my aorta and vena cava. Yeah, that one.

From what I'm seeing, if we go that route I'll probably be off from work for as few as two or as many as three months, more likely the three. I should be okay though; as I said these are two of the best guys around.


So of course what's actually worrying me is far more...trivial. I'm trying to coordinate with my current urologist's office to send all the reports and results and other records they have for me up to the Philly guys. I'm worried things are going to be left out and we'll waste time trying to get them after the fact. They also want the specimin/slides (aka, bits of my ball) overnighted to them so they can do their own read of the cell counts. I've been struggling to get the address to my urologist's office so they can't have sent it yet. Frustrating as my appointment is in two days. Grr.

It's a big appointment. These guys are serious dudes and this is a serious matter. What they decide can affect my health and even my survival, so naturally I want them to have all the information they need to make that decision.

But there's only so much I can do. Sure, I could beat up on myself about not finding the address quicker or trying harder, but that self-criticism isn't going to change anything. I just have to keep trying my best; as long as I'm trying my best, there's nothing I can really regret or criticize. I have to put aside these little worries and focus on the big picture: In all likelihood, I'm going to be ok.
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