So, OCD, Anxiety and Cancer Have a Tea Party

Some of you may know I've been a workaholic for a long time (maybe some of you are shaking heads and saying, "so THAT was her deal?!").  Of all the "holics" I could have become, I think this one is a bit different because generally, people praise you for it (she's so hard-working and ambitious...), coworkers like that you will get the job done (no worries, she'll hit that crazy deadline...), and supervisors have praised me for it with bonuses and promotions (look how much she accomplishes--she's a go getter, she's a contributor...).  I had a lucrative writing coaching business for many years and now I have a thriving dog training business--in addition to a regular day job I do pretty good at.

I would imagine if OCD, Anxiety, and Cancer were having a tea party, it might look something like...

I would imagine if OCD, Anxiety, and Cancer were having a tea party, it might look something like...

How this became a problem and what sort of problems it posed is what I'd call "out of scope" for this cancer blog ("out of scope" is my fall-back phrase for "Naw, I don't want to go there"  I use it, for example, when I give a dog behavior lecture and someone asks me why his cat poops in his flowerpots.)


The particular flavor of my workaholic cake featured these ingredients: an intense drive to achieve, a serious aversion to failure, a splash of competitiveness, glazed with some left-over anxiety about having enough money to not have to choose which bills to pay each month and fearing a permanent diet of $1.20-a-box electric mac and cheese and $.50 ramen noodles.  Over time, I felt strapped to the speeding, careering workaholic train--and this train had faulty steering and no brakes.  I needed to get some control or the end probably wasn't going to be pretty.


So, many years ago I sought out a counselor.  I learned that what may be contributing factors to my work drive are two pals called OCD and anxiety.  I was making good progress on my issues and finally feeling in a place where I could tame the workaholic beast without becoming a total bum or underachiever.  There was nice balance coming together.


Then cancer hit and how it plays ball with anxiety and OCD has been an interesting game.


I would imagine if OCD, Anxiety, and Cancer were having a tea party, it might look something like this:

  • OCD: Only allow three drips from the tea pot into the cup. Place three sugars in the coffee.  Fold the sugar packets just so, put to the left of the cup.  One side of the table cloth hangs more off the table than the other. Why is there a photo of a chicken on the wall and the rest of them are ocean scenes? Did I put three sugars in the coffee?  Did I lock the car door before I came in here...I need to go check...

  • ANXIETY: It's noon now and my next appt is at 2.  What time do I need to leave to get there?  Why is OCD taking so long to poor the damn tea?  Cancer is long-winded and is going to make me late for my next apt; should I text my next apt now and tell them I'll be late?  What route should I take?  What am I going to do about those posters I need to get printed for Friday...oh and I need to get the dog in for a vet app....and the tea pot actually made four drips into the cup, pour it out start over?  

  • CANCER: Fuck you OCD.  Fuck you Anxiety. I'm living happily in your person's boob and loving it. I don't give two shits about your mental crap.  Fuck this tea shit.  Where's the fucking bourbon?

Anxiety and OCD have become interesting comeback stories since I got cancer.


On the anxiety front, that's been a little less productive--and not so welcome.  I try not to worry.  In fact, I haven't really pondered at all what the BIG PICTURE of this cancer thing is yet. I just don't really want to go there.  But, anxiety does crop up in unforeseen places.  There's test anxiety--what will each medical test bring in terms of more potentially bad news.  Then there's procedure anxiety (a subset of which is needle anxiety)--the worry over what certain procedures will be like, and how painful or uncomfortable.  And, sometimes there's just more generalized angst over how chemo will go, how it will impact me day to day, if it will become worse over time.  For the most part, the days are okay--the nights can be worse.

On the OCD front, I found myself doing this weird sort of nesting thing before chemo started.  I read through the chemo manual (yes, you get a three-ring manual about chemo and how to manage it), made a list of everything I'd need, went shopping.  I shopped as if I were going to a place where I'd never be able to find basics, like I'd never find a tube of sensitive toothpaste or tissues.  I set aside some shelves in my office for books I may want to read, ordered some new titles, went through my library and pulled some more.  Hey, this is not a bad thing I don't think--I'm preparing, right?  Though, I had to tell OCD to go screw itself when it started whispering in my ear that this was the time (the few days before chemo treatment 1) to review 10 years' worth of personal and business files and clean out 15 years of accumulation in the basement. But, OCD related to hand-washing and germs turns out to be very handy for the chemo game since you definitely do NOT want extra germs in the mix when chemo kicks the crap out of your immune system. 


So, yay for OCD and boos to anxiety!  And, definitely a punch in the nose for cancer.