I may or may not be having surgery again today. The skin near my mastectomy incision may or may not be dying. The doctor will look at it again today at 10am make a game-time decision. If he deems the skin dead, I’ll be back on the operating table by 1pm.
I hate to be melodramatic, but I am completely freaking out. They tell me it’ll just be a “little” surgery, only about half an hour and I’ll get to go home right after, but when it’s my body and I’m going under anesthesia, there really is no need to use the word “little.”
I went to bed last night and swore I had a fever and constipation. There is no way they can do surgery on a girl with a fever and constipation, right? Then I threw off my down comforter and went to the bathroom and realized that my sickness plan had been foiled.
I fell asleep pretty easily and dreamed that I was going to be the first woman ever to compete in the Miss America pageant with one breast. It was a fitful sleep because I couldn’t figure out how I was going to get in shape for the swimsuit competition without being able to workout. In my dream I decided I just wouldn’t eat. Um… for anyone reading this who thinks that is the perfect solution, trust me. It’s not.
At about 2am my body decided we were done worrying in dreamland and would rather worry while fully conscious. But this is where I excel!
I’d start worrying and then I’d start talking to Jesus. And then I’d forget I was talking to Jesus and start worrying. And then I’d realize I was worrying and start reciting bible scriptures. And then after about 3 hours, I fell asleep.
For people who don’t understand God or the Bible or why I would take the time to memorize parts of the Bible, let me explain it like this: you cannot worry and be hopeful at the same time (thank you Joyce Meyer for teaching me that). Your brain has to choose what to think about, and it can only think about one thing. So when I choose to talk to Jesus or think of Bible verses, I am reminded of the thousands of promises God has made me: I’m never alone. He has a plan. This is all just temporary.
So now it’s today. I have gotten up, showered (yeah!), gotten dressed, and put on a little lip gloss. Oh! And I put on some very large glittery Miss America-type earrings and a gorgeous necklace my cousin, Susie, sent me. Maybe I’ll be so sparkly that the doctor won’t even remember I was there for surgery. It’s worth a try, right?