It’s the final countdown. T minus 9 hours. I’ve already reached the point where I have to stop eating and drinking. It’s go time. I was calm up until this moment. (Yes, take away my food and drink and I inevitably freak out.) Now I start to let the anxieties creep in.
Will I get the same anesthesiologist? Will she be having a good day? What if I wake up in surgery and flip the fuck out, causing instruments to go flying and people to panic? What if I get an infection post-op? Blah, blah, blah, all the depressing crap that comes with thoughts like those (and too many hours watching medical dramas on TV). I could really go down the rabbit’s hole.
Luckily, I have the good sense to stop myself. (Plus, I’m exhausted and just want to go to sleep already. I’m sure one or both of my girls will be up sometime soon.) I remind myself that by this time tomorrow, I will be back home and this set of surgeries will be done. I can put this chapter behind me and move on. I will still have the radical hysterectomy to look forward to, but that is years away. I’m excited for this to be over. I’m thrilled that I have knocked breast cancer out of my life and man, I’m gonna have the tits and ass to prove it!