Okay, allow me to explain:
Since arriving in my mom's new chichi burg, I have been ass-clenchingly nervous. Obviously, I have a right to be freaked and nervous before major surgery. The whole landscape was just bugging me, and I felt sad because the triumphant new house should be making me happy and I was just thinking to myself, "I am going to hate this house forever because it is going to be my landscape of despair." On Thursday my blood pressure was ridiculously high, especially considering I'm on beta blockers that make me about two beats above a corpse. I was nervous and fearing that I was going to have an asthma attack. I couldn't breathe. I felt awful and pukey and the littlest things set me off.
Compounding this were missives from my PE pal Stacy, reporting her horror show of a hospital stay at C-S. She was in pain, the nurses were inattentive, her concerns were not taken seriously, she nearly fell and peed the bed. She made it sound like C-S was a shithole hospital. I understand that nurses are under a lot of pressure, but the thought of going through what she went through, knowing full well this could very well happen to me, was making me more freaked out.
So last night, I very calmly told my mother I had to call it off. It was either that or take me to the local hospital now for panic attack treatment. I had to admit to myself that I was 100% not okay with having the surgery at C-S, LA made me nervous, and I was not going into this with a successful attitude. My brain was telling me NO, so I listened.
So fuck it. I sent e-mails to the scheduler at C-S, I canceled our hotel reservation, I left a message for the medical supply company to cancel the gimpy chair. After I undid everything, I felt so much better. My heart rate went down and I had a good cry.
I am going home next weekend. I am going to finish my fucking novel, do yoga, and have a goddamn summer, PE be damned.
Posted by Zerd at June 3, 2007 08:10 PM