Surgeon's rooms phoned earlier to say that he wanted me on the table tomorrow, but they hadn't yet been able to get pre-authorisation from the medical aid. Without that, I'd probably end up paying for it myself, which I can't really afford at the moment. So I spent 30 mins on the phone with their customer service dept, while we went round in circles about how if I didn't have a histology report, they weren't going to authorise it, because without that, there is no proof that it's cancer. Right,guys...I'm just a surgery freak who wants to have my nose mutilated and scarred even more than it is already because of the cancer. Ooooh, yeah. Spoke to the rooms again who sent the medical aid the report from 2001, and said that it was a recurrence of the same tumour, which it is, and medical aid was happy with that.
So within about two hours I went from knowing that it will happen some time, to having it booked and scheduled for tomorrow. Now I'm really nervous, because if he is rushing it like this, it might be worse than I already think it is.
At least I saw p-doc this morning, so I have had a hug for the day. Have now gone up to 50mg Cipralex (Lexapro), with no effect. Not even side-effects. We're now adding Tertroxin, a thyroid hormone to the mix, because sometimes there can be low T4 to T3 conversion, and it can cause depression, and you can't test T3 levels in the brain. Or at least that seems to be what I've read. So we'll give that a go for a couple of weeks as well as the extra Cipralex.
And after that, wheee! Nardil. Maoi diet sucks. I tried Parnate last year, with no joy, but from what I can find, Nardil is more effective although harder on the body. Which means being really really adherent to the diet, and that excludes about 90% of the food I live on at the moment. But giving up salami and cheese for the rest of my life does at least imply that I will have one. At the moment every day contains a few random thoughts about just had enough of this and why not go suck exhaust pipe now instead of dragging on like this. This isn't living, it is existing, barely.
P-doc only asked for the med collection about 10 times in 30 mins. He got me to agree that he can have them if I show up happy in the next month. If I am happy he can have them with the greatest of pleasure - I won't need them then. Until then, I need to have them as a supplement to the CO, and to make sure that I'm unconscious. I hate myself even more for all the organising/planning I've done, and I really wish things could be different, and that I wouldn't be so close to the edge all the time.
Until then the major aim for every day is to endure it in the hope that tomorrow is the one where I wake up singing.