The good news is, I'm another day closer to getting this over with. The bad news is my body is trying (but not yet succeeding) to force me to have one last miserable period before it gets the knife. The good news to that is it's reminding me just why I'm doing this.
Bad news again, riding past the hospital last night freaked me out. Most of the time, I'm calm enough about it, and then out of know where I'll get that fear knot in my chest. It doesn't feel real yet. I don't think it actually will until I'm doing all the lovely "prep" stuff the night before, and packing what I want to bring. That "am I doing the right thing" mantra pops in my head...okay there's the knot again...but when the pain starts up again the knot will go away again...and the wheels on the bus go round and round.
And here's the royally stupid. My mother went to a psychic who told "they would operate, but it wouldn't be what they thought it would be". Why tell me? It's probably nonsense, I know, but it just adds to my worry that taking everything out won't stop the pain. And that's not even the worst part of it. My mother has been telling me every single time I talk to her that I A) should be having the surgery back up in Cleveland (Yeah, like I'm going to get any rest in a house full of people whose hobby is yelling), or B) that I should put off the surgery another month so she can be here. I appreciate that she's worried, and I'm grateful. But if I could have had this done last month, hell, last year, I would have. I can't miss any more work, or any more of my life, than I already have. If they're going to come down, I'd rather it be once I'm home, so I can actually spend time with them, instead of being half stoned. If I was having brain surgery, or some kind of organ transplant, I may say fine, but it's basic removal of things that don't work. Wait, that's not the worst part, either...
My aunt called today with an angry message I only half played. Now, I love her, and would normally listen to everything, but it hurt, and pissed me off, and hurt some more. She kept going on about how I NEED to wait for my family to be here, that I don't have family here, and I should wait for them to come. About six seconds after that I deleted the message. What the hell?! Brad loves me (crazy man), and his family likes me, and his mother is planning on taking a week off in December in case I need her. The people I work with are so dear and wonderful that I even consider them part of my (albeit extended, since there's so many) family. Bless all the gods there ever were that my dad understands. He worries, of course, but he understands that I live here now, and that I'm going to be looked after. The next time either my mother or aunt call, if the conversation turns to the surgery, I'm going to have to ask to either change the subject, or I'll need to hang up. I'm stressed as it is, and instead of support from them, I'm getting more stress. GRRR ARG!!
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