So as confident as I am in my choice of doctors and as strong as my desire is to get this thing out of me -- I'm still anxious. Fear of the unknown; being knocked out; potential problems or unexpected discoveries -- all lead me down the path into my anxiety garden where I wander about pulling at weeds and flowers alike til my hands are stained green with the effort of worrying; my knees soiled with the dirty fear driven thoughts.
Breathing is good. The Olympics help. Knowing that in two days I will be free of these cells - a godsend. I'm quite sure I would not have emotionally made it to the 17th; that I would have arrived already damaged having taken things into my own hands -- I would have stated "but my friends know how to cut and suture and well I just couldn't wait any longer." Maybe my boob wouldnt look as great but maybe it would have.
I do wonder, how it will look, how big the hole, how gruesome the scar. I like scars. We'll see if this one and I get along.
Ok time for bed. My mom has visited me in my dreams -- she doesn't do that often.
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We're right there with you Cait. Much love from the (Funny) Farm where teenagers hate to go..a little too freerange but , hey, there's tomatoes!
ReplyDeleteThanks mol! Just when they figure out how silly they are it will be too late --- silly teens.
ReplyDeleteLove you Cait! As Molly said, we are all with you. Xoxo
ReplyDeleteMa