Twelve hours to be exact...until I have to get up, get ready, prep, and silently take a 35 minute car ride to the hospital. I have been counting down, in hours, since I got up this morning. I have nothing else to focus on at this point. My recovery room (downstairs)? Decorated. My meetings at work? Done. My files for work? All turned in. The house? All cleaned (Thank you to L!). What else is there left to do? Perseverate.
It wasn't this bad until yesterday, after my pre-op at the hospital. I have successfully been able to minimize this surgery to everyone, including myself. I think I just felt like I couldn't let on how BIG this was to my kids, my husband, my parents, friends...myself. When the nurse said I would wake up in ICU after the surgery, I was in shock. "ICU?!" In my mind I associated ICU with sick and dying people who are on the edge. Not (mostly) healthy 34 year old's undergoing surgery for her hip. I mean, really people, MY HIP.
I vaguely heard her say that it was ICU because of the graft. The nurses need to be "on top of" the graft, as it is very sensitive. The room has to be a certain temperature, as does my body, and they have to check consistently how the graft is taking.
I got back in the car with MBH, who had of course driven with me there, and started to cry...and stare out the window. I am sure I was great company for the 40 minute drive back to work. He didn't know how to help me. He even asked and I stated "There's nothing you can do. I just have to get over it."
The last day has been ups and downs. One minute I am fine. The next, someone says "good luck" or "how are you handling it" and I start tearing up. I have a lump in my throat. I utter "fine" in a broken whisper. Sigh.
Today I realize I can't say good bye to the kids. I am making MBH take them to my mom's tonight. I will say bye here, at home, so I don't make it harder on everyone else by crying in front of them. Sadly, I am still trying to protect THEM from being sad or worried. I will probably be in the fetal position by the time MBH returns from dropping them off. Or maybe I will have mastered the art of meditation in the short amount of time and be just fine. I can't drink any alcohol as of this morning, so I won't be able to cope in my preferred manner: a glass or two of wine.
My fear is just the one: anesthesia. That is synonymous with being out of control for 7-10 hours. Just not knowing what's happening to me during that lost time. The possibility of dying while I am under or some other crazy emergency. What if they have to stop for some reason and I have to go through the process all over again? I am slightly nervous about the pain, but shockingly not as much. Bizarre, I know.
I am hoping my next post is filled with how wonderful it all went and how calm I was during the process, as well as how it was so much better than I feared. The anxiety is normal, I know, but validation does not alleviate ANY of it.
Wish me luck.
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