Alright, so here’s the thing. I feel like it’s time for a little honesty.
I’ve been trying to act all tough about this cancer and my upcoming surgery. I’ve tried to tell myself and anyone else who will listen that I’ve done it before, I’m a pro, it’s no big deal. But uh, it kind of is a huge deal and it’s freaking me out more than a little to know that I’m once again going in to be gutted.
Sure, I could say they’ll delicately open me up and debulk the tumors but really, when I wake up in recovery, it feels like “gutted” is the more accurate term.
I am ALWAYS a crabby pain in the ass in the recovery room. I wake up and I want more drugs, water, and my husband. Not necessarily in that order. I hate everyone around me and I hate the pain. It’s possible I might be a little bit of a baby.
When I met with the surgeon on Friday I acted all tough and nonchalant. He called me a veteran, asked me about prior surgeries, length of hospital stays etc. while his nurse openly gawked as I rattle off the lists of when, what and where. She really needs to work on her poker face. I tried to laugh it off and pretend I wasn’t terrified. Even my low blood pressure backed up my sense of calm.
I’m good at this. The sort of fake your way through conversations thing and act like nothing is wrong while inside it’s like I have this loose thread that is slowly being pulled until I unravel in a heap on the floor. But I never get there. At least not while anyone is looking.
Have I mentioned how much I REALLY REALLY hate surgery? I’d postpone it but the little bastards would probably kill me so I suppose it’s time to suck it up. I’m signing up to chaperone a field trip the day before. I think I’ll need the distraction.
Oh hell, at least those long cute loose dresses are in all the stores for summer. It’s amazing what you can hide under one of those. I have a feeling I’ll be hiding a lot!