Ouch

Everything hurts.  My head is throbbing, my nose is dripping, my body is aching.  I actually called my primary doctor for the first time in probably a year.  He prescribed a Z-pac.  I did look online, and my symptoms added up do not equal cancer.  Still, I later chickened out and called Dr. Fox's office.  They said virus.  The Internet said flu.  I say ouch. 

My head has two spots that are tremendously painful.  I think it has to be cancer.  Why else would I just have these two palpating locations in different areas of my head?  They're painful to touch, they feel like bruises.  Head cancer.  The one spot, at least, is too low to involve my brain. 

What about the pain in my arms and legs?  I don't remember experiencing anything like this before.  It's new, so it must be cancer, coursing through my blood.  No matter that I just had a blood test three weeks ago.  They misread it, or it's developed since then. 

I am not a person who gets a flu or a virus.  Every season or so I suffer with sinus difficulty, and occasionally I catch a cold that develops into a full-blown sinus infection.  I had a fever just after my first chemo treatment (which, incidentally, was three years ago today), and that was the first fever of my married life.  I get weird things like ankle pain if a movie or flight is too long, and in the mid '90s I vomited every Saturday for 11 weeks in a row.  I once literally burned my eyes in an indoor pool and had to be blinded for 24 hours.  I'm not a good patient.  I haven't learned to be a good patient after being a frequent patient, and I'm still not a patient patient.  I'm not an accepting person that way.  I'm high maintenance, and people have to just know what I need.  Go away.  Come back.  Go away.  Bring me water.  I'm not a martyr.  If I'm in pain, I'm not stoically bearing it.  I'm slumped over a table, or I'm escaping.  I'm missing parties and other occasions to sleep or moan in peace.  I wake in the middle of the night and try yoga poses in the bed, which isn't intended to awaken Ken, but, well ... once he's awake he might rub my back.  Or run to CVS.

I am such a baby.  It's a virus.  It's the flu.  It's cancer.  What the hell.  It's just freaking yucky.