Things to do before surgery:
Brow and lip wax
Pedicure (sans polish. The hospital frowns on that.)
Hey, I have my priorities. Wonder if insurance will cover any of it?
I also have to get busy planning, preparing and freezing meals. I don’t wish my dietary quirks on anyone. However, daughter Carlene – the designated Lynnie sitter when I get home – and hubby Larry agreed to make me smoothies, egg-white omelets, roasted veggies and big-ass salads the way I like them as long as I don’t get mad if they’re not exactly the way I’d make them. I’ve assured them that I’ll hardly be in a position to be mad. Getting to the bathroom the first few days I’m home will be my main priority. They could feed me cold tofu on white bread and I wouldn’t complain. Much.
Since being penciled in on the surgeon’s calendar, I’ve done a lot of thinking/meditating about the upcoming unknown. When I feel a pang of fear or pain, I sit in it for a moment and play with it in my mind like Play Doh. What is it? Where is it coming from? This has led to some interesting observations, including shining a spotlight on my controlling nature.
That I’m a control freak isn’t a news flash to my family or anyone who has known me for longer than five minutes. But the degree to which it’s causing me trepidation about my upcoming surgery kind of surprised me.
There is certainly a time and place for control. Being in control is what keeps me in maintenance. There will be no regain. But in other areas of my life, I worry way too much about things I don’t know about and, more importantly, don’t have to know about.
Waxes, pedicures, losing weight, making doctor’s appointments…I’ve learned to care of myself, which is all well and good. God knows for years I neglected to take care of me. But I’ve gotten so good at taking care of myself that I’m afraid to let others take care of me. I need to trust that the people who do know the things I don’t know will do their job correctly and in my best interest.
I have 10 days to get comfortable with this. Hardly enough time to get through medical school.
So I’m starting small. I’m letting go of smoothies, or at least my rigid specifications. A Carlene smoothie and a Larry smoothie will be just fine.
I’m also going au naturel with the hair. I swear I was the butt of some cosmic joke when I was born a control freak with naturally curly hair. “She’s gonna HATE us!” laughed the gods the day I was made. But I’ll have more important battles to fight than my hair in the upcoming few weeks, so I’m surrendering the hair, too.
Smoothies and hair. It’s a start.
And this will be my theme song: “Surrender, surrender, but don’t give yourself away.”