My lack of attention span for anything work- and school-related has reached epic proportions. I have to prepare for our all-staff meeting today, because it is 90% about the office move, which I am helping to coordinate. I wrote the memo and am waiting for its return from my boss. Other than that, there are several other things I could be working on, but I’m not. I just don’t have the brain space for it. I am living in this limbo of not knowing what the hell is wrong with me and I won’t find out until 3:15 today. I long for the future when we’ll have individual health scanners (like on Star Trek!) and can scan our own bodies and have a read out of what’s wrong, how to fix it, and prognosis. And also, flying cars.

I know that no matter the diagnosis, I’m going to be fine. I have to wonderful a support system, both online and in real life that I couldn’t be anything but fine. And I’m trying not to borrow trouble, but to prepare myself for the worst (stage 4, inoperable, chronic monkey foot cancer) plus trying to, well, not HIDE what’s going on from Emeline, but not make her explicitly aware until we know for sure what’s going on and then there’s all of THAT mess and logistics. Telling a 4 year old their mommy is sick, but the doctor’s are going to fix her and make her all better. Of course, I also worry that 12 years from now she’ll be angry teenager that yells in my face, “And you HID that you had this stuff going on from me! How am I supposed to trust YOU???” Oh well. She’s gonna yell at me about something, I imagine. The thought terrifies me, a bit. Last weekend, I had to explain animal death to her – my mom’s bunny died. She handled it well. Asked if he would be coming back from Bunny Heaven (cliché, but it worked). I told her no and she thought about it a minute and then asked me to please get out of the way – she couldn’t see Spongebob.

And then there’s school and my anxiety that nothing will transfer (totally unfounded – I’ve followed the transfer requirements – just me being me) and I’ll have to start all over as a freshman and the past FOUR YEARS will have been for nothing and that I’ll be 50 when I finally finish and I’ll be the oldest first year teacher in the world. I know, not really, but I still feel like I’ll NEVER FINISH.

My mind is a sieve and flypaper all at once. I can’t remember shit, but I can’t let go of anything in there, either.