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2002-08-22 - 10:26 p.m.

Parts of the last two day have been spent doing my very least favorite of all things: interacting with the health care system. I have an enormous fear and dread of all things medical. Completely out of proportion to my actual experiences as an incredibly healthy person. Like most people, I have encountered some health care workers who didn't deserve the name. But I suppose that the real nucleus of my dread is the fear that something terrible will be found. I've read all those stories, where some tiny symptom turns out to be the big C. And then it happened in my family. I lost my innocent confidence that the big bad things just happen to other people.

I always think, on those sleepless nights when I am awfulizing: What would the day be like? The day you thought was ordinary and then you heard you were going to die? How does your whole world shift to accomodate this news: a life/no life.

So I have developed this phobia. Every time I experience some health issue, a part of my brain is in full panic mode. I put off going to the doctor, believing it will go away. Willing it to go away. And usually it does. But my lingering sore throat had me worried, and so I finally went today. Luckily I did not have to wait for an appointment because my deep growing sense of dread had me in a completely altered state by this morning. Ice water was running through my veins. My stomach was churning. I was wondering what would happen if I passed out on the street as I was walking to my appointment. Trying to just swim through my fear and keep upright, keep moving.....

Without going into every detail, I will just report that the nice throat specialist assured me that I simply have a bad throat infection, exacerbated by alergies and hormonal changes. Nothing scary. It's going to be okay.

I couldn't find my way out of the building and exited on the wrong street. It was raining, and I looked up and let the rain fall on my face. My feet barely seemed to touch the wet streets as I floated through the absolutely gorgeous neighborhood. The dark cloud of worry had lifted and I was free.

My two-mile walk to work in the humid and sweltering heat with a heavy back pack was a sensual delight. I stopped at the drug store on the way and paid eighty dollars for my prescription drugs. No problem. Sweat-drenched and wilted for my day at work? Who cares. And what's this-- I've just been assigned two more new responsibilities? Sure, I can do it! Absolutely nothing fazes me! I am superwoman.

This is not my day.

The real point of this story, I was thinking, is how powerful the mind can be. In one day I have talked myself into a state of total panic and then into a state of absolute grace. Almost entirely independent of the facts. My mind is more like wild horses, than, say, a computer. I don't suppose I will ever train them to the plow after all these years.....

Tonight I went out and bought all these flowers. I was just going to buy a couple of pots, just to fill in where we killed the petunias. And then I saw all the beautiful mums, in purple and dark red and yellow and white..... and I came home with, not a couple but TEN pots of flowers. And put them in the pots on the porch and in the wagon and on the steps. Because today I am having a beautiful life.

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