Back Down The Rabbit Hole

My surgery is March 4th. Less than a week away.

I originally thought they wouldn’t be able to schedule me for weeks and weeks, like end of March or early April. This is actually good news, but still felt like I had been standing on a trapdoor that opened when they told me. This will give me the best shot at going to friends’ weddings and hopefully getting a job and moving forward. I recite these things to myself over and over mentally, trying for some sort of positive emotion without success.

The closest thing to a positive emotion I have about this upcoming surgery is relief at where I’m able to have it and the doctor performing it. I put relief on the blue/green side of my emotional scale. So relief is what I’ve got going for me.

In the neutral camp, I have the positive things list I keep reciting. I’m also hoping I’ll feel less scared when the time comes and there will be less tears because this isn’t an absolute unknown this time. I have an idea of what’s coming and what I’ll wake up to (high as a kite on all sorts of pain meds).

On the red/black side of the scale I feel some despair at finally reaching a point physically where I’m not in pain daily and am starting to get physically stronger and I’m going to give it all up to be an invalid again. And hoping that I heal well. I can wear jeans and I don’t have to tuck in a soft shirt to keep my scar from hurting. I can walk a couple of miles and stand for long periods of time and I’m fine. It’s been months since my original surgery and this is new for me. Yeah I guess chemo probably fucked up the recovery period, but still… I thought I’d have more time to appreciate things before I had to give it all up again. It’s eerily similar to when this all started and I just wanted a few days to appreciate my body not being in pain or disfigured, but just had appointment after appointment of different pain causing things.

So I’ve got a 7am surgery that should last around 6 hours. I’ll be in the hospital from Weds-Saturday. I’ve got a private room and a bed for A. this time, thank goodness. Wally is going to spend a few days with his favorite uncle. He just had his last round of shots and is now free to roam the world starting the day of my surgery ironically.

Also ironic? This show is playing the night of my surgery.

Also ironic? This show is playing the night of my surgery.

(On a lighter note, as I wrote this I heard scraping and splashing coming from the kitchen. Wallace had spilled his water bowl all over the floor and was splashing it around. I told him “Nope, I’m not getting involved” and closed the bedroom door and retreated. I just washed the floor out there, so assuming the water will dry and it will all work out.)



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