Notice how I capitalized the "S" in surgery. I have come to think of it as a capitalized event. Sadly, instead of looking forward to how it'll change my life for the better, I'm viewing it as a chance to be taken care of.
I hesitate to think that I'm doing this so I can take a nap. I couldn't be that shallow, could I? I'm so exhausted, physically and emotionally, that I often wonder if I'm willing to go this far just to be given some attention and have my pillow fluffed.
Gastric bypass. Sounds like a fart is stuck in my heart. It just sounds ominous. I don't have the peace I once had about surgery. I had my gall bladder out and my breasts done, and neither gave me pause. I just went in, plopped myself down on a stretcher, and went on with my life. A little pain, a little discomfort, a little medicine, and I was back to normal life.
It doesn't feel like that this time. I feel... uneasy. I kept thinking that I had no peace about the procedure, but after prayer, I realize that I'm in a different place in my life, and my fears are centered around my children. Back the, que sera, sera! If I was out of commission, who cared? My cats had plenty of food and water, and the litter box be damned til I was better. Now... there are two little innocent lives and a teenager that depend on me. I'll be failing them while I'm in the hospital and recovering at home. That hurts me... deeply.
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