May 5th. That's the morning of my surgery. I found out two days ago, but haven't been able to write about it. Today I received the presurgical packet from the reconstructive surgeon and it was full disclosure heavy, very intimidating stuff. I have to sign every page, there are 7 of them and each one basically says "this might not work or worse." I am still waiting on the breast surgeon's package, that should be a kick.
I told the girls at work about my date and we started hammering down teachers to cover my classes. Already they are coming in to shadow me, each one is a relentless reminder that my presurgical days are ticking away and the searing pain of having my breasts cut away is hurtling at me like a fastball pitch.
This is such an edgy time for me, I am snappy and dangerous to be around. Yesterday I missed a baseball game with my family. Though I am not a big baseball fan, hot dogs and beer in the moist, simmering southern evening is such a treat. We are lucky enough to have a local farm team for the Devilrays and games are big fun. Through our friends, my son was awarded the last minute honor of throwing out the first pitch and because of work I was going to miss it. I pitched a fit and refused to go to the game at all. I stayed at home and ate scrambled eggs while everyone else partied their socks off. Childish.
My anxiety is also making it difficult to ride. Today I got a lesson on my wonderful green mare who is under training with my friend. We trotted, she rushed, I tightened and wasn't easy on her mouth, my hip angle kept closing, I sat too hard, my weight wasn't balanced, when I asked for the stop I clenched with my legs and butt. All wrong, I just couldn't get through the anxiety, the ever present feeling that I am going to die kept surfacing. Realistically, I know I am saving my life, not dying but fear is irrational and so am I right now.