Half Full? Half Empty? It's complicated.

I was watching the news yesterday when they started to talk about a new report concerning statin drugs. Those are the drugs such as Crestor and Lipitor which are commonly used to lower cholesterol. During the report, they mentioned that it has been discovered that those drugs can cause muscle damage and other complications in some people. This did not come as a surprise to me. It's a fact that I became well aware of a couple of years ago. It's also a fact that caused me untold hours of stress and really highlighted one of the major differences between Caradorn and me.

During the summer of 2007 Caradorn started taking one of the Statin drugs. By that fall, when he had a follow up appointment to see if it was working, the doctor discovered that some of Caradorn's blood work was not quite right. He told Caradorn to stop taking the drug and to come back for more testing in a month. Neither of us was too concerned at that point. But by Thanksgiving his blood work looked even worse. It appeared that Caradorn was suffering from quite a bit of muscle damage, and it was getting worse instead of better. It was at this point that the difference between us really started to become apparent.

Caradorn is a "Glass half full" kind of person. Actually, he's really a "Look, it's more than half full. I think it's filling up even more. It's practically overflowing! Everything is wonderful!" kind of person. He wasn't worried at all. He knew that his test results were just a side effect of the medicine and they would clear up soon.

I am also a "Glass half full" kind of person. Caradorn would disagree - he thinks I'm more of a "Glass half empty" type. He's wrong, though. I really do see the glass as half full. It's just that I am also a "Wait - why isn't it completely full? Why just half full? Is it leaking? I think it's leaking! What if it gets worse?! What if it ends up empty? What do we do?! Quick, everyone panic!" kind of person. In other words, I worry.

I made the mistake of using Google to try to find other possible causes of test results like his. This was a very bad idea, because every single result was something horrible. The possible outlooks for the conditions ranged from "With treatment you can lead a somewhat normal life for a few years" to "If you start writing your will right now you'll still be too late because you'll be dead before you finish." Caradorn didn't care - he still believed it was just lingering effects from the medication. I did care, and I started watching him like a hawk for any symptoms of all the various illnesses I thought it might be. Unfortunately, the symptoms were all fairly normal things that happen all the time, so I was convinced that he was going to drop dead any minute.

It was a very stressful few months. I couldn't seem to concentrate at all. If I tried to read I just read the same few words over and over, and didn't understand any of them. If I watched television I couldn't follow the story lines at all. All I could do was dwell on all the horrible possibilities. Only a very few things were able to distract me from the worry and stress. Rationally, I knew it was more likely that he was still experiencing some side effects from the medications. That didn't matter, though. I couldn't stop all the "What ifs" from circling my brain constantly.

All that really came to a head in the spring of 2008 when Caradorn had to have a muscle biopsy. By this time I was nearly frantic with worry all the time. Caradorn doesn't like it when I worry so much, and so I did all I could to act cheerful. But once he left for work each day I fell apart. I cried almost constantly and felt like I couldn't breathe most of the time. When he went to Birmingham for his biopsy I went with him, and as I sat in the waiting room I was almost hyperventilating. I couldn't focus on anything and just stared off into space wondering how I could live without him.

The next week while we waited for his results was horrible. By then even he was worried, which made me even more frantic. Finally the doctor called, and the results were good. Caradorn had been right all along - he was suffering some of the side effects from the medication, but he was expected to be fine. He has a lovely scar as a reminder of that time, but other than that he's finally back to normal.

You might think that the fact that Caradorn was right would have taught me a lesson about worrying. I wasted so much time panicking over all the things that could happen, and I didn't spend enough time appreciating everything that wasn't wrong. And I might have gotten a little bit better after all that, but I do still worry far too much. At least I am aware of it, though. And I have gotten a bit better about focusing on the good things and not letting the worry take over my life. But still, if you were to ask me if I am an optimist or a pessimist I'd have a hard time answering. I believe I'm an optimist. I like to think I see the best in any situation. But I also see all those other possibilities - all the ways that something might go wrong. I'm not a "Glass half empty" type, but I'm not totally a "Glass half full" type either. I guess you could sum up my outlook as "Glass half full. . .for now."