Ready for the snap

Take one Fever

Add a mild anxiety attack

and you have no surgery.

Calling off the surgery was a good call. I went home and slept for three days. Turns out, I was one sick puppy. Once I came to, I discovered that my lungs could no longer tolerate smoke and I am reluctantly happy to report that I am smoke free. I say reluctantly because while I cannot tolerate smoke, it doesn’t mean I don’t crave them. Color me with nicotine patches and I’m tolerable to be around.

Smoking did not go down without a fight. I tried to smoke – it didn’t work. I couldn’t inhale and that frustrated me. So for two or three days, I played with cigarettes, watched them burn, watched the smoke, remembered my Father in Law and my Grandparents, and kinda grieved. Okay – it’s pathetically wierd and I know it. But cut me some slack here okay?

My grandparents smoked and neither of them died from it. My father-in-law and I were very close buds and he did die from it. My emotional tie to cigarettes has everything to do with my emotional ties to these people who are no longer in my life. Letting go of my own cigarettes is another step in letting go of them.

I visited Dr B’s office yesterday and my lungs sound fine.  We talked about music (he likes U2 as much as we do) and surgery and we are ready to rock and roll on Friday. literally – he listens to U2 while he operates. That just totally cracks me up.

I did catch something funny that he does. When he’s talking to me, he stands next to me and holds my right hand with his right hand and he places his left hand on my wrist.  All this time I thought it was a nurturing and centering tactic, which it is. I also figured out that it allows him to feel my pulse while he’s talking to me to check my anxiety. Laugh out Loud. Jeff and I figured that out last night.

I can lie through my teeth, but I can’t lie through my veins. This whole mass-in-the-uterus-in-you-need-a hysterectomy thing has me a little on the scared side.

Out-smarted by a surgeon. Go figure!

So later gators. I have salt water to drink – don’t ask and an operation to get ready for.

I’ll post again later next week. Have a wonderful weekend.

5 thoughts on “Ready for the snap

  1. Post op week three: still doing well. I’m overcoming my being freaked out over having a male gyn. I do not do vulnerable with men. Just not my strong suit, BUT if I want to get well and if I want a healthy interdependant partnership with my doctor I have to be willing to be vulnerable.

    I’m not kidding – are there any other women who “get” what I’m trying to say? This whole thing has taken my ability to be vulnerable to a level I wasn’t prepared for and I feel really wierd about it.

    I use my brain when talking with men, not my heart — I stay away from vulnerable as a habit cuz well.. it usually comes back to majorly bite me otherwise. This is humbling me on many many levels.

    Granted, I was supposed to ask him about sex at my two week check up == did I? Heck no. LOL

    My physical anatomy has been greatly altered, asking about something as important as sex should be a no brainer.

    Dear gravy, it’s a wonder I ever had children.


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