3 weeks until I am lying in a hospital bed recovering from the surgery that will hopefully be the first step towards relief from this disease.
(Courtesy of Google Images)
I got the call today. I am tentatively scheduled for a February 8th surgery date. There is a tiny insurance issue that still has to be worked out (they had originally given me approval dates from the 10th of February to the 10th of March – so the doctor’s office just has to get the insurance company to approve an earlier date), but assuming that goes as smoothly as it is expected to; 3 weeks from today I will be going under.
And hopefully waking up to an entirely new way of life.
One without daily pain.
Without horrific periods.
And without the constant stabbing reminders of a disease that has threatened to strip me of all my baby making abilities.
In 3 weeks, Dr. Cook is going to open me up and clean out every last shred of diseased tissue he can find. On a mission to rid me of endometriosis.
And I can’t believe it’s actually going to happen. That I am actually going to be having this surgery. That there could actually be hope for a reprieve from this disease.
I am on cloud nine.
Of course, I’m also just the slightest bit terrified. When I hung up the phone today, I realized how soon 3 weeks was. And in terms of pain – that is an incredible thing! I have been hurting more and more every day, and I am anxious to get this surgery underway.
But in terms of everything else – 3 weeks seems insanely soon. I still have to finalize plane tickets and accommodations. I have to work details out with my dad and sister in law and 2 of my best friends from San Diego who are all hoping to make the trip. I have to arrange my leave from work and wrap up any loose ends there.
And I have to calm my nerves regarding all the normal fears I have about having surgery at all.
I am definitely one of those people who worries about not waking up every time I go under.
And in the case of surgery on my lady parts… I worry about waking up empty. About something going drastically wrong, and waking up to find out that everything had to be removed.
It has been my greatest fear both of my past surgeries actually. And the first thing I have asked (when falling out of my drug induced haze) both times has been “Is everything still there?!?”
I would be lying if I said I wasn’t scared. That there isn’t a bundle of nerves piled up inside of me right now regarding this surgery that is meant to be far more invasive than anything I have experienced up to this point. I’m actually going to have to stay at least one night in the hospital this time – and that alone is a huge unexplainable fear of mine. In the past, I have been able to convince my doctor to release me after a few hours of recovery. But Dr. Cook has already assured me that won’t happen this time. That I need to plan on at least one night of hospital food.
And hospital machines, and needles, and… people dying.
There, I said it.
I am afraid of sleeping in a hospital because people die there. And that totally and completely skeeves me out.
Because in case we haven’t reviewed this fact enough in the past – sometimes I am a child. With very child like fears.
Dead people, in general, make up a pretty big chunk of those fears.
And because hospitals house dead people, sleeping in one is not really on my top ten list of things to do.
But… this is all trivial. And silly. And I realize that.
Because in 3 weeks, I am getting an opportunity that not everyone with this disease gets.
I am getting 4-6 concentrated hours with one of the best endometriosis surgeons in this country.
I am getting a chance at freedom from this disease.
A chance at relief from the pain.
A chance at renewed hope.
In 3 weeks.
Just 3 weeks.
