And then…

So, last week I was mooching along, just doing the same old thing, when a massage therapist told me she could feel a ‘mass’ in my abdomen, when I was having a very rare massage (never have them. Note to self, don’t have one again). With my background in nursing, I was able to envision the worst case scenario, and spent the rest of the evening wondering if I was going to die in the next few months.

I went to the ED the next day (because going to the doctor costs so much), only to be examined, and told, there was something there, but that I should urgently see my GP and get a scan. After a minor meltdown, I managed to get into to see my doctor. She thought there was something wrong, but I couldn’t get a scan till the next morning. By now, I seriously thought I was going to be given some horrible news the next day. I spent the evening sitting in shock, reviewing my life, and wondering if this was it.

I left the house the next morning, to walk to the place where I was getting my scan. There was a rainbow in the sky, and I hoped it was a sign. When I got to my appointment, I think I had the most burnt-out radiographer on the planet doing my scan. I casually mentioned I’d been a nurse, and that the general public can be a pain in the butt. That seemed to open a floodgate for this poor guy, who used more swear words than I’ve ever heard in one sentence, as he let me know how much he hated his job. At the end of it, he swung the screen around, announcing to me that there was absolutely nothing wrong that he could see, and that the doctors and massage therapist were dickheads!

Turns out he was right. Turns out I spent 2 days and $300 thinking I was dying when I wasn’t. And it turns out, when I was in the dark night of my soul, contemplating if I’d had a good life, I thought to myself, yes, I have! In fact, the only thing I’ve decided to change is that I need to do more sewing and craft. I dragged my muse to IKEA with me on the weekend, and purchased a flatpack craft table. It’s still in the back of the car, because I’m going to have to rearrange the entire house to accommodate it. But I don’t care. I feel like I’ve been given a second chance and I’m certainly going to dive into my creative endeavours with a lot more enjoyment than I was doing before.

So, on that note I’m going to go and hunt through my patterns for my next sewing project, review my crochet wool, think about where I’m going to put my two new miniature dollhouse projects and get stuck into my next novel. No, I really can’t see where I’m going to fit the housework in…

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