Eli used to joke that my full time job is my health- Not so funny now!
Friday, as we were heading out of town to get away from ourselves, we got a call from the APD (Atlanta Police Department), asking for more information about my assault. They asked for the attacker's birthday with exact year, address and I'm sure other things I can't think of now. All stuff I gave to the investigator on Monday. "Who did you speak with? We don't have anyone here by that name. Were you at zone 3?" I was at zone 5- where they told me to go last week. Where they took my written statement and got all her corrected information. "Did you call zone 5?"
She actually said, "I don't have any reason to call zone 5." She, the investigator, wanted me to call my work to get the above information and call her back. I called zone 5 to send her the information.
The weekend was a much needed getaway with my in-laws. Eli ran a race and came in first for his age group, that is slowly climbing... so is mine. Great for his race times; not so great for one who sits around all day investigating her own assault...
We took our 85 pound, five year old puppy to the beach to let her run. She was so excited and happy. Each time running to the water and back to me, almost to check in with me. On the beach, alone, I felt safe and sound. Free of fear and anxiety.
As we left, of course, we started to talk about our next move. The thought of going into the office that has supported this woman, for probably close to 20 years, tightens my shoulders and sends a pain through my gut. I ball up in the passenger seat, the seat she sat in when she reached for my throat. Then the thought of other participants- people who have yelled at me before, people who have records, people I used to want to help have now become masses of furry concealed until I unleash it. She is still receiving services while I am locked in my home, waiting for a warrant to be served.
I ran errands today and was feeling good. I have only taken my klonopin when I can feel a panic attack coming on and have even started splitting the pills in half. And then the phone rings. It's not the police, or the worker's compensation firm, or my office. It was my nurse for my gynecology/oncologist. My appointment is tomorrow but this was not a routine phone call to verify my appointment. She said, "I know you are coming here tomorrow but I wanted to know if you want to go ahead and schedule the surgery?"
The surgery?! I don't even know what the diagnosis is. I don't even know what "the surgery" is! This is not what you want to hear when you are on Prozac and klonopin to "just get by"!
24 hours from the phone call, I will find out what she is talking about. I'm hoping for the best... surgery?... is there such a thing?