The pain wasn’t unbearable. It was uncomfortable. The bloating. The heavy feeling she had in her abdomen. The numbness in her legs. Jessica was tired too. Always tired. She Googled. Of course she Googled. What did these symptoms indicate?
Oh my God. Everything she read indicated ovarian cancer. It couldn’t be. She always worried about cancer. This was one of the cancers that was hard to diagnose. Is this the cancer that killed Gilda Radner? Is this the cancer that Fran Drescher had? That Fran Drescher beat? She Googled that.
She didn’t know what was causing this extreme fatigue and pain, but she knew one thing. It needed to be diagnosed. She called her gyno and made an appointment. They didn’t have anything available for several months. That’s ok, Jess thought. She could wait. Ovarian cancer often takes a while to diagnose anyway. She has already saved months by being able to tell the doctor what to look for. She possibly had saved her own life.
She couldn’t sit around Googling anymore. She had to go out shopping. Looking for something to wear to her husband’s business dinner that she agreed to attend. The business dinner for which she had nothing appropriate to wear.
A suit? Would look like she was trying too hard. A dress? No. Not an option. Like Hillary, pants are more Jessica’s style. A sweater? Yes. But all her sweaters were too casual. Yes. That’s what she would shop for. A more tailored sweater to wear with black slacks. Perfect.
Success! She found the perfect sweater. The evening will be a success!
Getting dressed, the fatigue is overwhelming. The bloating, the pain and numbness in her legs were more than usual. She shouldn’t have put off that doctor’s appointment. If this is cancer, it could kill her. Then it wouldn’t have mattered what damn sweater she was wearing.
The night of the dinner arrived. Jess was good. She plastered on a killer smile. Accepted a glass of Chardonnay, her least favorite wine but that was all they offered. She engaged in small talk as if she were a politician working the room. No one would know that this is the last place she wanted to be. She succeeded. Dinner over, they left. Went home.
So wound up from the night out, Jess couldn’t go to bed for hours. Even after a four-course dinner, she needed to relax in front of the TV and polish off the leftover salad, wilting in the fridge since lunch the day before, and a few cookies.
By 2 a.m. she was ready for bed. Finally. She drifted off. The evening was over.
The next morning, Jess awoke refreshed and full of life. No more bloating. No more leg pain. No more fatigue. Damn. It wasn’t cancer at all. It was the dinner. On the back of her mind for weeks. Even though she didn’t realize it, her body did. Her body never let her forget for one second that something stressful was coming up. Something she didn’t like. Something she was not looking forward to. Yes. She is an introvert. Even when she doesn’t think about it, it’s always there.
I understand Jessica too well. While my kids will do anything to go out with friends, go to a party, I am most happy to stay home. Alone is not lonely.