But I guess useless worry is kind of the definition of anxiety, isn't it? At least for me.

I didn't know whether this should go here or PTSD, but since I'm working myself into a panic attack, I opted for here.

Since I nearly died from bone marrow failure about a year ago, I have to get my red and white cells and platelet counts checked every couple months. Mid-February last year was the first time they were all normal (albeit low normal) since I got sick, but I was still on meds for it. I got off those in late August and, due to moving and other issues, didn't get checked again till December. Everything was OK then too.

I'm sure everything will be fine today too, and I'll have passed my one-year mark perfectly healthy. Long-term survival for this problem, if it was caused by meds as they think mine was (which is scary in and of itself!), is pretty good. But it can also come back, and chances then are not so hot.

I don't know why I'm obsessing over this, but pretty much all I remember of the whole experience is the feeling of being terrified. Doctors and nurses who took care of me in the hospital and then ran into me in the clinic often cried upon seeing me and hearing that I was doing OK, because, as they all felt compelled to tell me for some reason, everyone expected me to die. Much of my memory of my 5 weeks in the hospital mercifully has been completely erased, and according to my pdoc, who came to visit, they told him they were actively keeping from me how bad it was, because they knew about my depression and weren't sure I wouldn't just decide to give up if I knew how close I was.

It's just all really traumatic, and I feel stupid for being this freaked out, but I needed to get it out. Thanks for reading. Wish me luck this afternoon.

Candy