A cancer scare isn’t a lot of fun but it certainly helps to clear things up and put things into perspective, doesn’t it? I tried to go with that positivity-thought bollocks but honestly, the professionals already found a polyp. The consultant told me that it would be rare for me to have those because of my age. He also guaranteed my mother that I wouldn’t have diverticulitis and I had that too. I’m a medical marvel apparently. Fucks sake. I’m not holding my breath for my test results to come back clear. Today is a negative day apparently.
Some good has come out of it, of course. I’m 28. I might have cancer. I need to wait two weeks for the results. Well, 10-14 days apparently. That seems like quite a long time to find out whether or not the genetic mutation they cut out of your body contains cancerous cells, which is essentially what a work colleague said to me and I completely lost it. I’m a tad oversensitive these days. I thought he was calling me a liar… I need to stop and think before I lose it and threaten to quit my job. Yes, I was that melodramatic.
That’s the first thing to have come out of all of this. I’ve been signed off work for a while so I’ve been focusing on my writing career. After all, there’s not much else to do while you’re housebound because you can’t stop running to the toilet. I don’t want to work there anymore either. It’s a dead end job and I need to get out. Throughout all of this, my boss has ignored me, called me a liar, asked for photos of sick notes he thought were made up…. That’s what it has come across to me anyway. Who ignores an employee that might have cancer? He never calls me back. He never messages me back. I need to quit my job and just be a writer. And 2015 is the year I’m determined to do it. I did say 2014 but I had a couple of setbacks what with trying to get myself out of debt, moving home, potentially having cancer, having two profitable websites being shut down due to a change in the legislation, and more. If those websites hadn’t been shut down, I might have made it. But they did. So I didn’t.
Let’s say they did find cancerous cells. I know bowel cancer can be treated especially when found early but that’s close enough to death as I’m willing to go right now. Who wants to spend their life, however long they may have left, in a job they can’t stand surrounded by two-faced people that literally don’t give a shit… or know how to do their own job properly? Cancer or not, I know this isn’t the right job for me. I’m starting to hate it.
So, step one is to quit my job and just be the writer I’ve always wanted to be.
Step two is getting Jock out of my life. I haven’t heard from him since he shouted at me and I hung up on Tuesday. It’s now Thursday. He didn’t ask me how the colonoscopy went on Monday. He didn’t even bother to call. He just assumed I’d message him. Fair enough but if someone I apparently loved was having a colonoscopy, I’d have made it my duty to go with them, or at the very least call them after to find out how it went. Everyone else did. Prick.
He doesn’t know that they found that polyp. They don’t know that the entire experience was traumatic. He doesn’t know that I need to now wait 10-14 days to find out whether or not they found cancer cells. He doesn’t know that I’ve been signed off again until basically the end of the month. He doesn’t know about the IBS or the diverticulosis. He doesn’t know that I need to make massive diet changes, and that I’m probably going to need to take pills multiple times per day for the rest of my life. He doesn’t know. Actions speak louder than words… I reckon he’s said enough now, don’t you?
I’m 28. I want to get married again, have babies and live happily ever after. That’s becoming increasingly obvious now. I DO want all that even though I didn’t think I did. I don’t want to be an older mother either so I need to get a bit of a move on. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not going to go out this weekend and find some Friday-night wonder who will squirt their stuff up me and get me pregnant. But I am now proactively looking for someone to date, fall in love with, get married to, and have babies with. Preferably before I’m 31-32 ish. That gives me four years. I did want to be a mother before the age of 30 but I can’t see that happening now, can you?
Jock isn’t the guy that will provide me with all of that. I can’t get him to commit to a couple of hours with me one evening so getting him down the aisle is probably out of the question. Plus he’s never going to get himself out of debt or be the guy he pretended to be when we first started dating. He’s still living in a trailer with no real heating. The Ex is always going to be an issue. I’ll never be an important enough priority in his life. I get it. It’s fine. Well, it’s not but there’s not much I can do about it. And yes it hurts. I’m sad. I cried when I had this moment of realisation yesterday when I was waiting for a man to fix my leaking shower. My life is not going the right way.
Step three is to get myself out of debt. Obviously. Except this time I’m really going to try and do it. I really am. I haven’t bought new shoes in ages. I have been paying stuff off as and when I can. The fact I’ve had so much time off work hasn’t helped. My wages have gone right now. And for a while I was really kinda sad and didn’t really go near my laptop. Well, not to work anyway.
Three stages to recovery. Three stages of getting my life back on track. I’m kinda going with the I-don’t-have-cancer thought. I want my life, and I want my life to go the way I want it to. So I’m going to make it happen.
Every cloud has a silver lining and all that 🙂