I’m only 45. Barely old enough to qualify for aarp benefits. I’m still in my prime years, my “I totally got this” years, my zero fucks given years. So, when the time comes that I need to go have surgery, I’m all calm and cool, right?
Sure…. *panic attacks symptoms*
I have been down this road before; appendectomy, several cortisone injections, hell…two c-sections! This is not my first scalpel rodeo.
What I don’t understand is this…. why, as I begged and pleaded my doctor for this oophorectomy to get rid of my cyst-filled ovary and finally relieve my side pain, that I’m having overwhelming thoughts of saying goodbye to my family. I’ve never felt this kind of worry before prior to getting the sleep juice before all the sharp instruments. Why now? Why this time?
If you are thinking I don’t have confidence in my doctor, that’s not it. That’s probably not it. I’m sure that’s not it.
If you are thinking it’s because I’m not so young anymore, maybe. Things happen during surgery to people of all ages. Maybe because my dad died of septicemia shortly after surgery. Nothing is guaranteed. Especially not the continuation of life.
This experience has compelled me to write this post to get out these 1000 pound feelings weighting on my head.
I know it’s much too early, but still…
I know…that’s a lot to say considering that this is just routine surgery. I guess I just needed to get that out. If one person reads this, I know my wishes will be carried on, right?
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