I’m losing track of how many mammograms I’ve had. I never thought I’d see the day. Has it been three or four? All I know is that the first one did not go well (“Yes, Maria, you have advanced breast cancer.”) and that I have another one scheduled for tomorrow morning at 9:40.

I was not supposed to go in until August, but I’m going in a few months early because of a few issues I’ve been having.

I talked in my last post about my diet-induced schizophrenia, but I think it’s also spilling over into other areas of my life. I’m trying not to be paranoid about this mammogram tomorrow morning. One minute, I reassure myself that everything is fine and the test will come back negative and the next minute, I’m trying to squish the little niggling voice in my head telling me that “something is wrong.”

One thing is for sure; it’s a good thing I’m not an alcoholic on top of being a schizophrenic or I might be too looped to make it to my appointment tomorrow morning.