Sometimes It's Good to Be Paranoid

A couple days ago, I told my husband that I needed to go to the doctor. I have a small spot on my thumb that has been growing ever so slowly since the beginning of this year. It's now stopped growing and is getting darker.

Time to get it checked.

On Sunday night I got really sick after not feeling quite right for the whole day. That night I ended up with cramps, vomiting and a very unpleasant night. I told my husband that, while I might not like the decision when I'm feeling better, I'm going back to a raw diet (with the exception of sushi rice because handrolls are a staple in my diet when I'm on the go). I'm tired or reacting to foods and growing more and more sensitive to everything.

We went shopping and stocked up on fruit, vege, and raw fruit and dried nuts to make trail mix.

Exercise consists of going for walks about five minutes because my tailbone is so our of it.

Time to go to the chiro.

I've become paranoid all the sudden. I'm paranoid about my thumb. About cancer - breast cancer spreading to bone and liver cancer - the cancer that killed my grandmother. I'm paranoid about the tumors, though benign, that they found in my mother's breast. I'm paranoid about the tumor they found in her brain. I'm paranoid about the heart problems and diabetes that run rampant in my family.

Why it's taken me this long to get paranoid, I don't know, but I'm embracing the paranoia. Because it's the paranoia that's going to motivate me to save my life.

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