Last night, while I lay thinking here,
Some Whatifs crawled inside my ear
And pranced and partied all night long
And sang their same old Whatif song.
I might be freaking out a little bit. Just a tad. My DIEP Flap is in just a few short hours and well…I want to run away. Far, far away. I’m questioning every decision I have made, every bit of research I have amassed over the last three months and every piece of advice I have gotten from numerous doctors. They mean nothing to me right now. Fear is the supreme ruler and I have a serious case of the Whatifs.
What if I can’t walk into the O.R.?
What if my knees give out?
What if I throw up?
What if I wake up in the middle of the surgery?
What if I never wake up from the surgery?
What if it hurts so, so, so, so, so much?
What if there are complications?
What if I have to stay in the hospital longer than expected?
What if I get an infection?
What if my surgeon fucks up?
What if I don’t like my new breast?
What if it takes months or years to heal and get back to normal again?
What if I can’t hold my son for a long period of time?
What if my son throws temper tantrums and I can’t do anything about it because I can’t lift him?
What if my son hurts himself and I can’t do anything about it because I can’t lift him?
What if my son forgets about my “boo-boos” and jumps on me and tears my scars?
What if my son is afraid to hurt me and then doesn’t let me snuggle him?
What if I don’t see my son for days and I miss him so much it hurts? There’s no pain medication for that.
What if I can’t get back to work when I planned?
What if I physically can’t work the way I hope to in a few weeks?
What if this surgery doesn’t help my lymphedema?
What if the surgery makes my lymphedema worse?
What if I die?
What if I regret it all?
What if I made the wrong decision?
What if, what if, what if, what if, what if?
Everything seems swell, and then
The nighttime Whatifs strike again!