One more sleep

In about twelve hours, I'll be in surgery. Having only one major melt down before now, I think I've done considerably well for someone who's about to have all but one bit of an entire bodily system removed.

I still have doubts, but I guess that's to be expected. My fears are far more psychological than physical. Am I doing the right thing at the right time in my life? Am I ready to swap one set of symptoms for another? Will I still be as much me as I am now without most of my female parts? My answer to all three is, "God, I hope so."

I'm more afraid of this surgery than I have been for any of several that I've had. I suppose because this is the first time that it's been 100% my decision. The previous had all been decided by my parents, at the urging of my orthopedic doctors. Even my tonsils were, "have them out, or end up in the hospital". I needed all the others at those particular times. Either because I was sick, or my vertebrae had shifted to just the right percent, or my bones risked growing in odd ways if they'd waited. But this... I could put this off, if I needed to. I could continue the current regimen of shots...but to what end? The fact that I'm "choosing" to make this radical leap scares the hell out of me. I know, millions upon millions of women have been in my shoes, but not a one has been in my head.

I keep alternating between feeling this detached unrealness of it, and being scared breathless. It stems from the simple truth that should something go wrong, either a week from now, or a year from now, and I'm worse off than I was, I have only my self to blame. There's no shortage of family members waiting in line to say "I Told You So".

The thing is, too. It's not just me anymore. For as long as Brad will keep me, the decisions affect him as well. I'm just praying this will quell some of my messier mood swings, and I can get on with the business of life.

And then there's the silly thoughts, like "I won't be a whole set of parts anymore." Thing is, I was never a whole set of parts to begin with. I was born with two less vertebrae, and one less rib....or is it two less ribs and one less...nevertheless, I was never a factory sealed package, so one more bit of abnormality shouldn't bother me. One more scar shouldn't scare me. That bit just makes me sad. There's very little real estate on my skin that isn't under, or near a scar of some kind. The though of adding to the collection just makes me tired. Depending on how things go, months down the road, when everything's healed up nicely, I'll be adding a tattoo on top of this new addition. Don't know what yet. I'll leave that to future me to decide.

Well, I'll be off to finish the loveliness of my bowel prep, and hopefully be cuddled up in bed with my boy and my bunny, watching Babylon 5 until sleep comes for me. Wish me luck. Say a prayer. I'll need them both.