Maybe I’m Thinking Too Much

Maybe I’m Thinking Too Much

I’m starting to wonder if I’ve been thinking too much about all of this.

Yes, this is a major life event. Yes, it’s dangerous and scary and all the things. But sometimes I just get tired of thinking about it. Tired of researching it. And then I start questioning myself - have I overreacted? Am I making too much out of all of this?

Part of that, I think, is because I’ve always been a very stoic person. I don’t cry easily. I don’t share my emotions publicly. But when this journey began, I cried every day. Constantly. It shook me like nothing else ever has. And even though I kept it mostly private - no posts, no public discussions - I found ways to process. I kept notes. I talked to my nurse navigator. I leaned on my husband. I typed frantic questions into ChatGPT. And eventually, I started this blog.

Now I’m in a strange in-between phase. Radiation hasn’t started yet. Life feels weirdly normal. And that normalcy makes me second-guess just how upset I was in the beginning. It makes me feel like maybe I flipped out too much. Maybe I let it take over too many thoughts, too many tears, too many pages.

I still haven’t shared anything on social media. Not because it’s a secret - it’s not - but because I’ve chosen not to make it public. Sometimes I toy with the idea of posting something. Some kind of announcement. But then I ask myself: why? What’s the purpose? And just like that, I don’t post anything.

When I run into friends and they ask, “How are you?” I smile and say, “I’m great,” and move on. I’ve told a few people in person. But most of the time, I’m not in the mood to talk about any of it. So I don’t.

And maybe I was giving my insurance a little too much credit. Apparently this delay is because insurance doesn’t want the doctor to use the more modern radiation technique. They’re pushing for an older style instead. Like… WTF. So now we wait. Again. There’s supposed to be a peer-to-peer conference so the doctors can argue their case. Until then, I’m stuck in limbo.

The doctor originally said six weeks of radiation. The bill they gave me says six weeks. But now someone mentioned it might be four? Honestly, I don’t know what’s going on anymore.

I’ve been reading posts on Reddit, and now that I’m further along in this experience, I can see how everyone starts out in the same panic-stricken disbelief. It’s comforting in a way - to know that I’m not unique in that. To know that I'm not the only one to feel that this is one of the scariest things I’ve ever faced. That I didn't "over-react" at all, it's normal to flip the hell out when you get news like this.

Maybe I’m just sick of worrying. Sick of thinking.

It’s confusing. Frustrating. But I think the best thing I can do is enjoy this little pocket of quiet time while nothing’s happening, let the doctor’s office deal with the insurance mess, and try not to let it get under my skin.

I think, because I am on the other side of a lot of this, hindsight is giving me these confusing feelings. Looking back on what I’ve been through and what has happened makes it easy to feel like - see, that wasn’t a big deal - but I know it was a big deal. I survived and I’m doing great. But I had to go through a lot to get here.