Today's post is negative, so if you are in a chirpy mood don't continue...
Readers that have followed from the very start of my blog may know that I have been suffering with a strange lump in my neck. I have seen the Dr numerous times and been given antibiotics for months, but nothing has shifted the lump. I went to see a specialist on Monday and have been told I need to have scans and biopsies done to test for cancer. I wish he hadn't mentioned this evil word, it is all I have thought about since. I know its just a precaution but cancer? Really? My gut instinct tells me (and Mr.A) its not... but I still wish the specialist hadn't mentioned it. I have to sit around and wait for a letter for the date of my next appointment. I HATE waiting.
As you may know I have been seeing a therapist for the past few months to help with my depression. She has picked up on my unhealthy eating habits and how down I am about the weight loss coming to a stop. So she set me homework to eat more healthy meals.
She said I would notice my body being to lose weight once again and I'd be fuller, happier and more motivated.
I had to weigh myself this morning in preparation for this afternoons appointment. I felt sick and anxious before stepping on the scales. This last week has been stressful so I've been comfort eating (I have a tendency to eat hardly anything some days then eat everything in sight on a "bad" day) so I tried to prepare myself for the scales to show an increase. They did, I've put on a pound. Might not seem a lot to you but ANY weight gain to me destroys me. I cry, A LOT. I feel hopeless, like there's no point in being so strict with myself, and I feel angry at my therapist for suggesting this "homework".
After crying hysterically for about 20 minutes I pulled myself together and took Ozzy and the girls downstairs for breakfast. I put Ozzy in his Bumbo seat as usual and turned round to get a bowl. I heard an almighty bang. He had reached forward and managed to fall out, his body hit the dog cage on the way down then he landed on his back on the hard floor. It all went so fast but I managed to prevent his head from banging the floor. I screamed for Mr.A thinking he could have broken something, Mr.A took Ozzy from me as I started to have a panic attack. We both calmed down and luckily Ozzy has been okay. He's had is breakfast, milk and a sleep and is now playing on the floor with Lily. In my panic I suggested going to A&E but when I'd calmed down my instict told me he is alright. I'm going to keep a VERY close eye on him today though, any sign of something not being right and he's off to the hospital. The thought of anything bad happening to my little boy, or any of my kids, scares the life out of me.