I’m sitting in the pre admission clinic yet again. Surgery was postponed from mid March to 29 April. The joys of a weak immune system! Providing I stay healthy, I’ll be under the knife in 13 days. They have said I can watch if I like. Sounds like an opportunity for a memorable experience. Or ongoing income for a counsellor. Either way, it’s something to consider.
It’s amazing how emotions and psychological thoughts change over time. I was rebelling against the thought of surgery a few weeks ago. I didn’t want to go through with it. Everything felt hard and overwhelming. I’ve been here before. It’s a scary place. The truth is that I wasn’t ready. I hadn’t organised my life and my brain hadn’t caught up with reality. I wanted a way out. Anything to avoid the pain of the recovery. I was loving my life as it was and didn’t want the interruption. Self preservation kicked in… As did a fear that I thought I’d kicked.
Death.
Several years ago, before another major operation, I wrestled with my frailty and mortality. I could not see beyond the surgery and it scared me. Over the course of a few weeks I grappled with thoughts and fears that led me to a place of surrender. A place of peace. I became more content with who I am. I trusted that when the time comes to sleep, that everything would be ok. I’d be going home. Eternally at peace, pain free and rejoicing. I had, at that stage, been living life as well as I could. I’d done my best and hoped that somehow, somewhere, I’d helped at least one person.
This story ended with surgery being postponed. I’d developed a sore throat the night before surgery and gone in for admission to be told by the nurse that “We don’t want you dying on the table today!”. Of course, horror crossed her face as she realised what she had said. It’s generally not something you’d hear! Be at rest, my soul. Today is not your day. I can’t help but think I was saved from death that day.
So, as I approached the March date this year, fears crept in again. I felt like I couldn’t handle it. The journey, the pain, the change. What if something goes wrong? I had a dream that I died at the hands of an inexperienced doctor and I generally didn’t want to go ahead. I wanted to keep enjoying going out with my family. I wanted to continue my study and step more into the things that I see happening. I wanted to make a difference again (thinking that I hadn’t been of use to anyone). Good things lay ahead.
I don’t like being held back. I grieve when I’m physically set back. Independence lost, journeys of pain, learning to walk, write, eat … Whatever it is.
Sometimes I just want it to stop.
It will one day.
Until then I want to press on. Move forward. Maybe even make a difference somewhere. Those good things still lay ahead.
While having the surgery postponed due to illness wasn’t necessarily desirable, it has given me an opportunity to do further soul searching, to prepare my house and reconsider my focus. And who knows, I may have been saved from death (again)?!
Surgery is not the most desirable option. Being healed would be much more fun. But, failing a miracle, this is a journey I must walk through. Or hobble through… Either way, it looks like the next chapter is almost upon us.
I’m not sure that anyone enters surgery without some trepidation. But, what was consuming me is now sitting in my pocket. It’s there. It falls out from time to time, but I can put it in its place. I’m now looking to the future…
Time to rise and conquer yet again.
13 days and counting.
forloveandliberty.wordpress.com 