I just posted this on Facebook but it's WAAAAAY too long to put up in chunks on Twitter so here goes... :)
This is the fun fucking part of having gone through a long terminal illness with someone. For every third or fourth time you visit a doctor's office (for you or anyone else) you get a free bonus panic attack.
Today the bearded giant had a dental visit. I went with thinking we'd grab lunch after before he headed off to work. At the hour mark my brain decided we had hit radiation an/or chemo time. All the anxiety and fear from then came flooding back despite it being now and not then. And I was crippled by it for about 45 minutes before he came out of the back and whisked me out of there.
I asked to go with him. It was my idea. I even had a good book with me I was reading for a friend. I did not anticipate that. I never saw it coming. All I wanted to do was unzip my body and crawl out of my skin. Inside my brain I was literally screaming the entire time. That translated to a slow leak out of my eyes.
I then proceeded to beat myself up and then some. Because I should be past this/over this/better than this/stronger than this etc etc etc.
I'm posting this not for hugs or sympathy or any of that very nice stuff people offer up when the read something like this. I am offering this up because, if you are there too--if this happens to you--it's okay. I can't seem to tell MYSELF that it's okay but I can sure as shit tell someone else that it's okay. You've been through some shit. You've seen some shit. Sometimes your body goes haywire and crosses its timelines and is a big asshole of a time/emotion traveling TARDIS. And it's okay. It will pass eventually, as much as it sucks in the moment.