And took the very last small white pill leftover from last summer. I only recently discovered there was still one that tiny little round celluloid box.
And it didn't really help. I don't get anxious about much but I do get anxious about healing. I'm mad at myself for taking it because I've gotten this far without. I was sad and lonely and a little stressed about the doctors appointment yesterday. Medicine can be so marvelous but I feel forever scared by all of my past history. Not just the being significantly over weight, but every complication, every reaction they all just weigh on me when I am trying to get better.
My left leg is healing... but when the plastic surgeon looked at it he thought it would be better to leave those stitches in a little longer. It's hard to explain what I see but the skin is not staying together. I think the tissue underneath has mostly healed it just needs to heal come back together at top. This is a process and I would really like to see some progress. But none yet. Also at the T junction there is a bit of pull. Same on the right I noticed when I got out of the shower earlier.
I get worried about open holes and germs. Which is why I caved last night. It's stupid that taking an anti-anxiety pill makes me feel weak. But I do. I'm in control of a lot of my life, but it is maddening that I can't just think myself better. That I can't just think my immune system to be strong and do its job, or that I can't think my little cells to rebuild faster.
I'm doing everything I can. I know that. Doesn't make me any less petrified or consumed with worry at the end of a very long day.