Today is the day. I am heading into surgery in a few short hours. This is the first time I have been under anesthesia since I was a teenager. I have had two c-sections, but I was wide awake and anxiously awaiting the babies that followed. This time, I will be asleep. And, with that, comes a slightly higher level of risk.
I fretted all night. Not because I don't trust my surgeon (who, in case you are wondering, has never lost a patient), not because I don't think I'm doing the right thing, but because of that little sliver of a chance that something could go wrong and I never come back. It's just that I've never had so much to lose. This beautiful family... I couldn't bear to leave them.
I wrote The Mister a "just in case" email yesterday. In it, I outlined my insurance coverage (in my house, I'm the one who keeps track of this stuff) and how I feel it would be wise to spend it. I reminded him of what I would want, medically, in case of emergency and who to consult if he needs guidance.
I found that those topics weren't quite enough to satisfy my need to share information. I needed him to know what I would want for him, for The Nugget. And this is how I found myself crying big, fat tears in front of my computer screen at work. The thought of him living a life in which I am not his wife, in which I am not The Nugget's mother, it's more than I can bear. Which, really, is why I am going under the knife in the first place.
But all of that is just in case, and I am planning on status quo. And so, I'll see you on the other side. Good energy, wishes of luck and prayers are welcome, though, to help ferry me over!