Today I met with my oncology radiologist. I should know by now to always bring someone with me to the doctor, and today of all days will go to prove that. I insisted it would be okay to go alone, and insured my partner I would bring my notebook and take notes. I took notes, I took half a page of notes, but I can’t tell you a single thing that was said at that appointment. The doctor had a hard time making eye contact with me and I knew that this was going to be a serious appointment. She didn’t make a lot of eye contact, but she sure didn’t honey dick me about my cancer. She explained my MRI to me, something neither my surgeon or oncologist did. She went on to tell me how aggressive my cancer is, something both of the other doctors did explain. Once she started talking about how high my risks were I stopped listening and instead focused on what I saw, and it was her hair. This isn’t me pointing out her flaws, it’s me deflecting from my cancer. I’m tired of talking about my cancer. I’m tired of learning about my cancer. Right now, I wanted to deflect, so I focused on her hair. I focused on how her roots needed to be retouched. I focused on how pretty her rich red brown hair was. I focused on how faded her mid-lengths and ends were and how I would formulate her hair colour if she were to sit in my chair. Somehow, while fixing her hair silently in my mind, I managed to take notes during this appointment. I didn’t, however, absorb a single bit of information she gave me. I’ve been deflecting a lot on my numbers, risks, etc because I’ve already had to play therapist too many times and I don’t have the energy to explain the bad to anyone right now. Eventually, it will all make sense why I’m choosing the route I’m choosing regarding my health, as it’s curial I’m not cutting any corners right now. I’m really fucking ready for this bear to kill this lion over the cliff now.