I had my pre-op appointment today. I’ve smoked way too many cigarettes between then and writing this. I can tell because my body is pissed at me. Fuck you, body. That’s what you get for having cancer.

I suppose to some people that type of humor isn’t appropriate, but it’s getting me through my day, so there’s that.

My surgery is cleared. I had some blood work done before leaving so they can check for anemia and such. I spent the majority of my forty-five-minute appointment crying. It started with my primary physician coming in and asking how I was doing.

Seriously. Fuck that question. >.<

I mean… I appreciate it. I truly do, but if you want to open the floodgates of my emotional reality, that’s how you do it.

I told her about my diagnosis. I finally got to tell her thank you. Because of her care, we were able to find out about my cancer and to take the needed steps to remove it. I told her how the past month or so has been hard and getting progressively harder as the surgery date gets closer. I told her about the night I looked up overdosing, how I’ve been going to counseling, how Ox and I have had more open communication.

I told her about my nightmares and fatigue and how silly, stupid, “normal” things feel overwhelming. Crushing. I told her how I understood this wasn’t a forever type of situation but how everything post-surgery felt so nebulous and far away and unknown and that post-surgery is where I feel like I will struggle even more.

She asked if I was opposed to taking something for depression and anxiety. My reply was I felt like taking medication would be treating symptoms rather than addressing the root cause of the issues.

She understood my perspective. She also countered with relating mental and emotional health to a viral cold. When you have a cold there really isn’t anything you can take to make things “better”. You have to let the body work itself out. You can take decongestants, or Tylenol to lower a fever, but nothing is going to make the cold go away faster. The meds help you function for those 10 or so days where you feel like crap.

They help you sleep at night. They help you breathe easier. They help keep the sinus pressure bearable so you can still go to work even though you most likely shouldn’t but bills are a thing and so off to work you go to infect all your coworkers…

She thinks it would be a good idea for me to start taking Zoloft. It would be one of the lowest doses. 25mg. One tablet every day. It will take about three weeks for it to build up to a consistent level in my system.

It won’t be a miracle pill. It won’t make me bright and sunny and happy. It won’t make unicorns gallop under colorful rainbows with pots of gold at the end. In theory, it WILL help me think clearer and calmer. It will help keep me from having as many super-low days.

There’s a whole list of side-effects that it could have; one of them being worsening suicidal thoughts not to mention the lowered blood pressure leading to dizziness and falling down. Let me tell you how much it would suck to fall down while I’m trying to cannulate a patient…

So… I now have a choice…

I can keep going as I am, struggling and feeling like I’m not doing well and that I’m constantly falling into a hopeless pit of despair. Or… I could try taking a medication that may or may not make things worse.

I’ve talked to Ox pretty extensively about it. He’s hesitant for me to start taking Zoloft when I’m about to begin taking Synthroid after the surgery. I share those concerns. I feel like it will be hard to tell which medication is doing or not doing what.

I spoke with my FA pretty extensively about the situation, too. She thinks it would be good to try it.

Both Ox and my FA agreed to be a safety net for me. If they begin seeing behavior that “isn’t me” they will let me know. They also agreed to check in with me to see how I’m doing emotionally. A lot of that will hinge of me being honest about how I’m feeling, something I’m not always the best at…

Both Ox and FA agree that beginning to write daily again could help gauge emotional stability and track emotional changes. It would allow me to reflect on myself and to be aware of how the medication may or may not be affecting my thoughts.

I think going back to my daily to-do lists would also be beneficial. I don’t have to make endless pages of tasks, but I could give myself one or two things to start with. That’s it. Just those two things. It could help give some sort of structure and stability to my day and give myself a visual representation of what my day was like. This day I got all of this done. This day was harder but I got these things done. This day was fantastic and I got all of this done. My to-do lists would let me track my energy a bit easier, a bit clearer, than what I might get from purely writing.

I’m scared to try this medication. I’m scared of surgery. I’m scared of the unknown. On the flip side, I do think I have a strong support system full of people who care about me and who will look out for me.

Ox and I agreed we will give it one week; one week to see if things get worse. If they do, I stop. If not, we give it one more week. If it gets worse, I stop. If not, one more week and so on and so on.

The one-week method seems doable. It gives me a clear, defined timeline to track and measure for improvement or decline, not just in mental and emotional status, but general health. Am I having GI issues, drowsiness, insomnia, panic attacks, or any of the other number of potential side-effects, and if I am, do the pros, if there are any, outweigh the cons?

So yeah… One week. I will give it one week.

I will write a quick note each morning about how I feel, emotionally as well as physically. How did I sleep? How do I feel about the coming day? Is my stomach upset? Do I have an appetite or no?

When I get home I’ll write another note. How did the day go? How did I do physically, emotionally? How do I feel about sleeping and waking up for the next day?

So, today, at 2:30 PM, I am taking my first pill, my first dose, of Zoloft. It is one week and 12 hours before my surgery. I have an army of supporting people who love me. I WILL survive this situation.

This begins my one week. I’m nervous yet at the same time desperate enough to try this method. Other’s can only help so much. I know I would benefit from help internally, if just until things settle down and normalize to the new normal that will be my life post-surgery.

This isn’t for forever. This is for right now. We don’t look down on people taking a pain med when they have broken bones. This is my first step towards not looking down on myself for taking a medication for my mental health.

I love you, self. Forever and for always, I’m here for you and we’ll get through this together.