Where is my mind?

Bad news and stress always seems to leave me forgetful.  It's like my brain can only take so much before it's out of room.

When my grandfather died, I locked my keys in the car.  When I was first diagnosed with cancer, I drove all the way from the surgeon's office to work before I realized I'd left my purse on the chair at Dunkin Donuts.  So far with this most recent bad news I haven't done anything that dramatic, but I'm definitely finding myself realizing that I am not, at the moment, at the top of my game.

But still, without any real alternatives, the thing to do seems to be soldier on. And I'm sure my brain will catch up eventually.  It always has before, right (ok, maybe don't answer that)?

I don't feel bad physically.  Which makes sense, it's not like I'm any sicker than I was before Wednesday, it's just that I have some scary news.

So I go through moments of normalness and moments of terror and moments of worry and then back again.  I remember how this goes and I know it will get better.  And, God willing, Ibrance and Letrazole will do a good job and I'll get some good scans under my belt again.  That would go a long way toward helping me relax.

But for now I try fairly unsuccessfully to stop borrowing trouble.  And stop googling advanced liver failure.  And stop imagining I'll have every unpleasant side effect in my little Ibrance pamphlet.  Kate's helpful cancer hint: excessive "worst case" research is rarely helpful (see, now you know!).

And, besides, I'm not a rookie at this anymore.  The progression, drug regime failure, and liver mets are new, but I'm practically an old timer at having cancer now.  So I know if I can just ride out this "just found out" phase, I will get mentally better.

And you (yes, you), please be patient with me while I get through to that.

And maybe also let me know if you see my purse or keys in all the wrong places?