Not crazy

Saw the psychologist this morning.  I was supposed to see her for the first half and Dave was supposed to join me for the second half.  That didn't happen.  I talked.  A lot.  For like the whole hour.  And it seemed like it took 2 minutes.  Turns out, I'm not crazy. (Correct, Dave does not believe this). She believes that I've compartmentalized my cancer diagnosis so completely, that I haven't allowed myself to absorb it. I haven't allowed myself to have all the scary and horrible feelings that I'm supposed to have about it.  I'm not big with the feelings thing, so this does scare me.  I haven't cried about this.  I should be.  I just can't.  My biggest fear is that they open me up and discover the cancer is much worse than expected.  Knowing  that I have an 85% chance of living for the next five years is crappy.  I wouldn't get on a plane that had a 15% chance of crashing.  I am also too much of a control freak to allow Dave to take care of me, the boys, and the house. He can't do it.....like me.  And there's the problem.  I deal with my stress by making myself busy, planning, and organizing.  Dave deals with his stress by learning and asking questions and learning more.  Apparently, I harbor a bit of anger at Dave for so many "second opinions" and fear that it created the long wait for surgery.  I have to see the psychologist weekly now - so she can make me feel the feels. Ugh.

Also, Dave was arguing with me that every single person has a decent chance of dying every day.  I argued back, "Not a 15% chance of it!"  So he googled.....and I know you're curious what your chance of dying on any given day is.  It's .5%.  You're welcome.