It's four in the morning and I can't seem to get to sleep. Perhaps it was the dim sum my SIL lovingly bought for me tonight, but I've got a better guess - surgery anxiety. And how I know I'm pretty sure is because I have been in a little of a panic mode since the day at the anesthetist's.
My life suddenly feels so upside down right now and I'm in some sort of funk just thinking about the surgery. So many questions keep running through my mind these days about my motivations, whether is this is just another manifestation about post-breakup hurt, about what I want to achieve out of this, whether I will regret this, is it worth all the pain, do I really want plates and screws in my mouth till goodness knows when, and even the thought about "What if I die in surgery?".... it's truly ridiculous.
Talking about death, I have been contemplating that possibility for the past few days. I literally have been asking myself - "
What if I really die this Friday?" It's pretty morbid to think, but regardless how advanced medicine is in Singapore, it is still a possibility. In fact, for the past two days, I've been wondering how I would live my life differently if I knew I only had five days left to live and what I would change or say to people if I had limited time left.
It's prolly going to sound really weird, but I used to have a habit when I was younger of writing secret letters to people before I travelled. I remember literally spending hours writing individual letters to all the people I loved or cared for, or just had something to say to, and slotting them in my diary at home before I left - something like a "just in case" note so that if I really did pass on, at least they would discover them when they got to clearing away my stuff. That at least they'd get to read something from my heart... things like that I loved them, or that I was sorry, or just that I believed in them.... Yep, that's silly ol' me. But I figured it didn't hurt anyone to write them, and it'd ensure that if something really did happen, that at least I got the words out... and not to mention that if I did survive, it was a great opportunity to reflect about what words and thoughts I was keeping in my heart and why they were still there.
I'm nervous, I am. I feel like I almost can't be ready for this. I'm not sure how to. And part of me fears the post-surgery segment of this journey too. I mean, I've read blogs of people going through this surgery with fiancees/fiances, or spouses, or some significant other of sorts, and how their presence made the whole process easier, but for me... my mum requested that I stay in the hospital longer because she wouldn't know what to do with me, not to mention that she is afraid to see me in pain. My projection of how things will be at home after I come back from my 4 nights at the hospital would be me hiding away in a little space (probably the living room) which I would set up as a bedroom and office for two months, and just occasionally having the househelper, sisters and SIL popping in to say "hi".
I won't lie, I wish I had the ex with me right now. I'm scared now, and I wish I could talk to him about all that's happening. He was like my best friend and he always had some sort of rational way to just close a matter and calm me down from something scary happening. But I guess as humans, we generally remember the most positive times and aspects of people... or at least I do. Just thinking about the bone sawing, the plates and screws, and changes, and blood.... I'd appreciate someone just telling me "you're going to be okay".
I need to calm down and get some sleep... this is not helping to prep my body for being in the pink of health for surgery. :(
