Two weeks to go before I have the first of two surgeries I’ve been putting off for nearly 20 years. My logical self knows that this is a very common, non-risky surgery, and that I will be happy with the results. Reading and driving will get exponentially easier. I get my nightlife back! Yay!
But try telling that to my emotional self. That piece of me that seems to be in a perpetual state of glorious messiness. I tend to psych myself out about even the smallest things when I don’t feel prepared. (See: a cortisone shot I really didn’t want to have that ended up being a molehill and not a mountain.)
No one ever said I was rational all the time.
This week, I had my pre-op visit with my GP, which seemed to be a turning point in the can’t-get-off-this-train timeline. I mean, I could run for the hills at any point before the surgery, I suppose. But I have put a whole lot of time, effort, and anxiety into this iteration of considering surgery. And I know it has to happen eventually or I’ll go blind. It’s my third time approaching the situation, and it seems like it would be a real waste to walk away now.
Can you hear the rationalization?
It’s not something I usually use for positive causes. More often, it’s to justify something I know I shouldn’t be doing (not necessarily health related). But in this case, I think I will need to do this until I’m past the first surgery. Until the appointment this week, I was able to temper my anxiety through the strategic use of distraction and escapism. But as the day gets closer, my anxiety has been inching up and will likely continue to more than inch during the last week. I have already put my friends on notice that I will be leaning on them. Heavily.
In past similar situations, planning and information gathering have helped. In this situation, there’s not a lot of planning to do. My dad is coming out to drive for the first one, so that’s covered. And making sure I get and start taking the pre-op eye drops (I hate eye drops) on time is something I can control. The only other thing I can do is plan to take a stuffed animal that squeezes well as my figurative security blanket.
The other element, information gathering, only goes so far. I can ask people who have already had cataract surgery what it was like, but none of them is going to be me. So my feelings and reactions to the procedure will differ from theirs. Their experiences may or may not translate to what I can expect, so its usefulness in a situation where I won’t have any decisions to make is questionable.
I guess my best options for the next 10 days are to continue rationalizing and hold my breath until it’s over. I hope I don’t pass out.