For about two weeks I was lead to believe that I had cortical brain atrophy. A CT scan was mis-read by an incompetent Radiologist. My primary care physician even suggested that I may have a brain tumor sitting at the bottom of my brain stem.
For two weeks I spiraled into depression. I took up drinking, and cried myself to sleep when I could actually manage to shut my eyes. I catapulted through the five stages of grief. Never quite settling on any one stage but instead embracing all of them at once.
I can't say that I was ever really angry with anyone but the VA. Perhaps that counts as a stage. I don't accept the belief that there is a God for me to be pointing a finger at for my premature impending demise so this stage was reserved for the warranted anger towards the VA and their piss poor handling of my CT scan.
I bargained, "Please universe let me have just 8 more years so I can see my daughter off to college and mold her into a woman that can stand societies sexist bullshit." And within the past few days, I think I began to feel something akin to acceptance of my fate. I didn't want the MRI that they kept seemingly failing to schedule. I didn't need it. I was going to die and that was ok. I just needed to do it on my own terms.
I'll have to come back to this post... I need to be sober for this next part.