I took Zach out for dinner last night, and he joked about it being my “last supper.” I’ve been so accustomed to this term being used before colonoscopies and diets lately it didn’t phase me. It wasn’t even until this afternoon it hit me that really was my last solid meal for a while.
I’m sitting here, still sorting out which procedure I want to have done. One has bigger consequences in the long-term with a chance I’ll be back in the hospital in 10-20 years, but easier in the short term. The other is difficult in the “short” term, but eliminates cancer forever.
I’ve approached the situation from many ways, one of which was try to figure out how I wanted to feel after I left mayo. After a month or so, after years. I want to be confident, free of worry. I want to be happy and able to joke. Now when I make light of the situation I get looks showing people’s uncertainty of my humor towards it. I still want to be me.
I think most of all, I just want it to be done. I’ve experienced the consequences of dragging out emotionally draining situations and it doesn’t benefit anyone. I’m playing with a lot of “what ifs” to base my decision off of, and I should probably stick to the tried and true solution. Otherwise I have a long 70 years in front of me.
I’ve been subconsciously planting seeds in my life before I left that will remind me I’m still the same. I could be blowing this whole thought process out of proportion, I’ve never had any surgery before. But I don’t want to leave any room for chance. I already settled and unpacked at my parents. I have a handful of pictures from last week waiting to be uploaded to facebook to keep me actively working to connect pre and post surgery me.
I’m ready. I am. I’m just triple checking every detail is in order.
Check-in time is 9am tomorrow. I’m handing my phone over to my mom for a couple days, so feel free to call or text. Just know it might be her on the other end!