Under the knife

I have surgery tomorrow, and I have mixed emotions and adrenaline flowing through my veins. I guess tomorrow anesthetic will course through them and send me on a journey which will hopefully be uneventful and anticlimactic. I don't need any more drama.

I've been calm about it up until tonight. Although it is appreciated and welcomed, the "good luck" phone calls from family only seem to highlight the concern of others about my well being and thus send my mind down the path of what if. No need to explain the what ifs in this scenario: Cancer, surgeon error, whatever. Those thoughts then lead to my husband, my babies, my family. Phrases such as "if this happens, then we'll have to open you up" and "blood transfusion" and "vascular surgeon", etc. spoken by the surgeon echo in my head. With all the paperwork you have to sign about the rare but horrible consequences of surgery, I wish there were an option to sign one that says, "don't tell me a damn thing and just do it." Guess that doesn't cover their butt enough and Lord knows they don't care about mine (in reference to the lovely hospital gown I'll be sporting tomorrow).

Ah, well. It's a day I've been hoping for because I'd like my life to return to "normal". I am glad it's here finally but now it's time to hope it goes well. I'll hug and kiss my babes a little more tonight. Let's just hope my next post is about how great I feel now.