Wasted days and wasted nights

I'm going to be dead in 2 years. I just have that feeling and I've been obsessed with it for the last couple of months.

The 5 year prognosis for Stage 3a endometrial cancer is 58% survival and my gyn-oncologist says if I have a recurrence it will most likely happen in the first 2 years. I just started year 2, so I'm not totally crazy for thinking I'll be dead soon.

I'm more likely to die of a heart attack though. I have not been taking care of myself - it's even worse than usual. My BP is up, my blood sugar is up and I'd really like to cancel my primary care checkup next week because I know the test results will not be good. My prescriptions are running out and she won't refill them if I don't go for my checkup, so that would be one way of hastening my death.

Meanwhile, I never imagined it was possible for one little thumb to cause so much suffering. My doctor diagnosed it as trigger finger and offered a referral to an orthopedic surgeon. It hurts 24/7. If I bump it or move it the wrong way, I have intense, shooting pain. (Is that why they call it trigger finger?) When I see family doc next week, I'm going to ask for the referral.

You'd think with my limited number of days left on earth, I'd want to do something productive. But all I've been doing is sitting at my computer designing my dream house. I learned how to make graph paper with MS Paint so it's easier to draw the plans. It is a truly fabulous house. And of course, I've designed the husband and kids to go with it. There will even be 2 dogs (a bearded collie and a beagle mix) and a cat (Percy). I don't even like dogs but the children begged and the husband took their side. It's sort of my version of The Sims.

Of course, it's possible I need to increase my antidepressants. Just possible.