T Minus 6 and Counting

We're under the one week mark for surgery now. This time next Tuesday (the 19th,) I should be under the knife.

In the past several days, I must admit I've been getting more and more freaked out. In fact, I've been trying to not think about it. Of course, now is the time everyone is asking me when the surgery is and how am I doing, which causes my stomach to clench up and my gaze to drop away. I awkwardly stutter through some explanation of '[worries], but it'll be fine' and try to change the subject. Its strange; the attention whore and the hate-having-a-fuss-made-over-me inner self in me are really struggling for dominance right now. Isn't there some sort of middle ground here? Can't we all just get along?

I did have some reassuring news last night. Until then, my imagination was having to fill in a lot of blanks based soley (sp?) on what the doctors have told me, which is 2-3 days in the hospital, 2 weeks of feeling pretty miserable, and 2 months until a full recovery. The movie my brain cued up involved me lying in misery, my hand raising weakly to pet Mags' worried face in the hospital, then being ensconced in my darkened bedroom, moaning softly to myself while I lay there in agony upon a mound of pillows, my family quietly stirring miso soup downstairs while clutching rosaries, their eyes to the heavens. Ok, the part about the rosaries was thrown in for effect, but the rest was basically true.

Anyhow, last night Husband and I met with someone who'd actually had this exact procedure performed a few years ago, and he gave us his version of what happened. It was much less intimidating than what my overripe imagination had produced. Hell, to hear him tell it, this procedure is nothing more than overgrown outpatient surgery. According to him (and I've no reason to think he'd lie,) the procedure only takes 2-4 hours, and you're awake within 45 minutes after that. Most of the time you just sit around in your hospital bed being a bit...bored. And by the time they release you, you're already feeling like you wanna go out and do stuff. Like, the movies, or dinner. Obviously, this is great news! It makes me feel much better, although I will of course still worry and my heart rate will still be quite high in the prep room, I'm sure. And my brain is still only willing to relax somewhat on the worst case scenario now, but only as far as somewhere between the two.

This encouraging news is making me feel a bit guilty about having people fly all the way to Cali to be helpful; I mean, I'm really hoping there are no complications that require me to actually need nursing, but it kinda feels like people might be wasting their time. Guess I'll just have to suck it up and learn to accept people's love and concern without there necessarily being a good reason, huh? Either that, or seriously turn into an AK-tresss very quickly. Now where did I put that turban again?

So, there you have it. Still surgery, still surgery on my head (gulp.) Still normal cause for some anxiety. Still gonna milk it a little bit after its over (ahem,) still gonna accept help from friends.

And for the record, it is technically not brain surgery, as the pituitary gland is not in the brain. While it adds fabulous dramatic flair, and its close enough to my grey matter for me to consider it brain surgery (avove the waist? Brain surgery!), I will set the record straight once and for all. Because obviously much sleep was being lost over it.