Surgery is tomorrow. One sleep. In 48 hours it will all be done - and I am utterly terrified. I know enough of what is coming to know that it's reasonable to feel this way. I've talked about my surgery to friends, co-workers and family in an abstract third party manner. Everyone seems impressed with my positive attitude and nonchalant manner with which I am handling all of this. It's a good show.
I'm petrified of what I don't know is coming and almost more afraid of what I do know is coming. I don't know what kind of pain control I will have for surgery. My last experience was not positive - to say the least - as I woke up screaming in pain in recovery. I'm hoping for better this time. It can only be better.
I do know that I am giving up control on many parts of my life. And that might be the hardest part. I'm not afraid of pain, I'm afraid of losing my independence. I'm a horrible patient - I am not good at asking for or accepting help. I've worked so very hard to be able to do things myself. And in 36 hours I won't even be able to get dressed by myself.
I've done well this time to keep myself busy enough over the weekend to not have a spare second to reflect on the upcoming week. But as the weekend winds down, and my body screams with pain in response to my over-doing-it this weekend, I am forced to sit and think. It's almost a good reminder as to why I'm going through the surgery - my shoulder is so very sore right now. It's a not-so-subtle reminder that my shoulder is not going to get better automagically, and that this is surgery I need and will appreciate 4-6months from now.
My 6 year old daughter brought me her most prized possession in the world to snuggle with - pink blankie. There is no precedent for this act of love. Chelsea does not give up her blanket. Ever.
For anyone. I guess this further demonstrates the magnitude of my surgery and how it not only
impacts me, but many other people in my life.
I'm on a new music kick, and have discovered Chvrches and their song "Recover". It's about decisions and being at a cross-roads. That's me. At the cross-roads of pain and surgery. I'm really hoping the surgery path works out for me this time.