Highs and Lows ... WAVES of whacky emotions..

Hi there @LoriB , so very sorry that you've found yourself here. You asked a specific question, that is, are you the only one who is going mental over a diagnosis? Well, no...I don't think so...I'll stick my hand up as being able to identify with much that you have written, and some that differs. I won't patronise you with pats on the back, and assurances that all will be fine, because what your intellectual response and you visceral response are not one and the same. I remember feeling totally shell shocked on hearing that I had cancer. I looked around at all these other 'normal' people around me, doing normal, mundane things. How dare they!!! How dare they grocery shop, buy shoes...shoes for fuck sake, who the fuck needs more shoes???!!! I'm quite possible going to die sooner rather than later... and this silly bitch is buying shoes!!  And don't dare try to cheer me up with all these positive statistics either!!! The feeling that my reality and theirs was so very different, and I felt so alone. I have often found that rewording a situation, or reversing it, give a clearer perspective. If someone went up to a virile, healthy 28 year old man and said, "Ahem, pardon me, your life, as you previously knew it, is about to change, big time. You have cancer in your nuts. But never mind, we'll just chop them off and then put these little silicon balls in their place...you'll look quite normal afterwards. We'll poison you to the point that even your spit will be toxic to others around you, but it will help kill these bastard cells. Oh, and we'll also nuke you, just to make sure." If that poor sod didn't (initially) feel that they were going to lose the plot, then I would truly be worried. The fact that that bloke didn't feel as if his world had tilted on its axis, would be worrying in and of itself. That would not be normal. Having said all that, after the initial shock wore off, I shaved off my previously thigh length hair, to a Marine #1 cut, put on my "Fuck You" boots and prepared for battle. I'm still battling, one bastard situation at a time, but, hey, I'm still in it....apparently no evidence of disease, cancer wise. Pretty stuffed with side effects, but getting there, slightly fluffy head, stuffed up this, that, and the next thing, (physically), and mentally sometimes feeling like a lost fart in a haunted shithouse from chemo brain, but still here, flying the flag. You can do it kiddo, and this woman here is holding your hand while you do.