Necessary Mutilation

Tax day and hubby’s birthday!  Since we’d already gotten our meager tax money back and blew it at the casino last weekend, the only thing to celebrate today is Tom!

It’s a normal day in most regards (although I am painfully aware that of the four of us who gather for dinner, I am the only one who worked today).  Tom’s childhood friend Corky and his girlfriend Phyllis — a pleasant and engaging couple, join us at one of our favorite restaurants.  Danny’s is known for its ”Four Soup and Salad Bar” — all-you-can-slurp-and-eat, and I’m starving enough to try three varieties of soup and eat salad and a full meal besides.  I am (once again) aware of leaving others in the dust, and when our conversation strays to my upcoming surgery I am sure it is obvious to all just how desperately I need this to provide any modicum of self control.  Still, I can’t help wondering how badly, if at all, I’ll miss such days of excess afterwards.  People seem to indicate that you feel satisfied and fulfilled and that mourning for lost habits and food items isn’t really an issue. I guess I’ll have to see for myself.

Compounding this recurring “worry” is increased anxiety at tomorrow’s class and Friday’s hospital pre-operative work-up.

I made the mistake of researching the pic line and pray that Dr. C. calls me back about alternatives as I am now too wigged out to imagine tolerating this while conscious. I sent him a fax outlining my fears and concerns, and desperately hope that he will be willing to address these with me.

When I asked the nurses at my job if they could fathom alternatives to give me a reference point to present to him, most were busy minimizing my phobia, (”oh, you’ll be fine” or “it doesn’t hurt much”) to be helpful.  This became a free for all with secretaries and the record keeper chiming in - I so wish phobias weren’t misunderstood as silly or about pain.  I tried to explain that fear of heights, elevators or spiders isn’t about pain - but apparently none of my colleagues have phobias as this seemed to fall on deaf ears.  So … I largely took a gander on my own in what I wrote to Dr. C. and now sit with fingers crossed that there may be alternatives or a blow with a frying pan pre-op to render me unconsciousness so I won’t care what is done to me.