frantic

The day is fast approaching when I will have yet another invasion into my body to remove an organ run amok. This time, it'll be the 'girl' parts: both ovaries, the uterus, and the tubes between. Mama's sister is coming to hold my hand and reassure that all will be well... and yet I find myself on edge. My bird has arranged to take the day off to be at the hospital with us... and still I worry. I've taken the time at school to prepare ahead for next semester, just in case... just in case of what? I don't know.
And that's really the long and the short of it. I DON'T KNOW. I don't know how this bout of abdominal intrusion will affect me. How quickly will I recover at my age? What happens in the hole left by the missing parts? Won't other parts sag in to that emptied space, possibly disrupting body functions? How long will I be under the influence of anesthesia? How long will I suffer the aftereffects of going under? Should I stay at my house or elsewhere? When will I be able to drive my stick-shift again? How long am I to be a disruption to the lives of those who love me?
I've arranged for this to take place during this long break from school, giving myself four full weeks to become fully mobile. What if that isn't long enough???
And there is the crux of the matter. I am playing "what if" and driving myself to distraction. I really don't have time for this mentally exhausting game, yet I cannot pull myself from the lip of the abyss. Perhaps it's time for bed.