Time has a funny habit of slipping on by, no matter what scary event lies in wait. I’m happy to report that these past few weeks have been surprisingly relaxed and joyous, thanks to Christmas—my favourite time of the year, in case you haven’t clued in from past holiday posts—and a concerted effort on the part of loved ones to keep things, and me, “chill.”
Now, however, Happy Surgery Go Time is mere days away. Naturally, anxiety levels are creeping ever higher.
A case in point:
As of late, my favourite annoying questions with which to needle my husband are all some variation on the classic “what if they mess up my brain surgery and ______ happens?” theme.
“What if they cut into the part of my brain that’s responsible for making weird noises and I don’t like inventing them anymore?” I asked him this afternoon as we walked through a “Winter Village.” (Yes, I had just leaned over and murmured a strange sound into his ear.)
“What if the scalpel slips and it ends up in the LEGO area of my brain and I no longer spend too much money on overpriced sets?” (As usual, my inquiry was met first with a blank stare, then with a shake of the head signifying “I will not engage.”)
No, I don’t really think that anything’s going to go wrong on Tuesday morning, when I (finally) have stage one of Operation Attempt to End Seizures. There’s a certain comfort, however, that comes from joking about everything going up in flames/choose your more appropriate analogy.
But I digress.
I plan on writing again, even if just a few disjointed lines, before the surgery. Between now and then, though, dawns a new year, which merits a reflection or two of its own. Most germane to the current rather-scattered post is how glad I am that this process is happening in 2017, not 2016. It just feels symbolically right or whatever: new beginnings, etc. etc. Not that I would’ve been upset if it had gone ahead as planned in November, but I’m willing to wholeheartedly embrace this silver lining.
In any case, I hope that the last few days of 2016 treat you and your loved ones well. If you need me, I’ll be taking full advantage of life on the outside before I’m confined to a hospital bed. Meet me at the sushi restaurant.