It's the Final Countdown

I'm pretty good at waiting. I hang out with a lot of 90+ people, and when you're that age all you do is wait; an attitude of patience and acceptance is necessary for a body that moves pretty slowly. I've been excellent at waiting these five months. Now that the countdown to the big day is approaching a one digit number I'm starting to freak out. Fifteen days. I kinda feel like I did back when I was a kid and there were two weeks left of summer vacation: a little excited to go to school, learn new things, and stop watching Price is Right everyday, but mostly reluctant to go meet new people, wear real clothes and give up summer.

It's hard to describe what it's like to wait for major surgery, especially as the surgery draws closer. I'm in disbelief: because of my bad luck something will happen and the surgery will be delayed for another three months. I anticipate getting my life back and maybe getting to swim and do physio in two months. Mostly I'm terrified of possible pain, surgical complications, hospitalization, and immobilization. Surprisingly I feel sad, too.

My life isn't very exciting or action packed right now. It's limited by pain. It's monotonous and quiet and structured around waiting, but it's my life and it's known. Take away the wait and I don't know what comes next. Fear makes me wistful for what I have and focus on potential losses. It makes the change harder.

Now everything I do is an actual stroke off my pre-surgery list: Easter and family dinner, done. Wedding dress, done. (Hurray!) Next up engagement photos, my last weekend and then.... May 7. It's hard to relax and enjoy anything with this auspicious countdown to someone opening me up, breaking my bones and sticking their hand in my pelvis.

I felt the same sense of anticipation overshadowed by dread before I left on my sailing trip. It was the first time I'd ventured out on my own and I was such a homebody; I loved home and hated venturing from it. People were surprised I was doing this trip because I wasn't the adventurous type, but that's why I knew I had to go. As the date crept close I couldn't remember why I'd signed up in the first place. There were so many unknowns! I wouldn't know anyone, Papua New Guinea was so remote, and there was no possible way to know if I'd packed enough sunscreen. For the first two months I was away, I felt incredibly homesick; it physically hurt how much I missed home and family. Eventually that hurt lessened and I had an amazing time.

I guess what I need to do is to be sensible: try not to panic, try not to slash giant Xs through each day in the calendar as it passes, try not to live these upcoming two weeks like a giant to-do list. It would be wise to just live in the moment. However that is impossible.  I think my goal is to not worry so much, and when I'm struck by fear to squeeze onto something really tightly and wait for the moment to pass.

Fifteen more days!