If you just walked past me in Penn station you most likely wouldn't have noticed anything different about me compared to any other commuter; white pants, black blouse, denim jacket, oversized black hipster glasses, and a ridiculously huge bag holding my shoes, an iPad, and lunch...among various and sundry other items.
You wouldn't have noticed the panic in my eyes or the fact that I just popped a heavy duty vitamin X. You would have never seen the subtle shaking in my hands as a fumbled for the volume control on my iPhone because the Smiths came on a little louder than anticipated. You would have never known that I just got a call from my oncologist reminding me I'm due for bloodwork tomorrow morning.
I knew the appointment was in August and I know they always call to remind me but I was too busy to indulge Anxiety Girl...and now that bitch once again set up camp in my head where she will reside until I find out my results. Every ache and pain will kick off a mental war between my rational brain and my PTSD brain. Panic attacks will ebb and flow with the tides until I know for sure that I am still NED.
This is the part of my life that I hate, but if you saw me ... you would never know.