Here…we….go!

I am having surgery tomorrow morning at 9 a.m., which means I have been nothing short of a disaster this week. I’ve cried (not proudly) and stomped out of the building at work; I’ve gone to my final two body pump classes for who-knows-how-long; I’ve frozen two gym accounts; talked to poor Wanda the Surgical Coordinator so many times that I can hear the resignation in her voice the second she realizes it’s me; and  stocked my apartment like the next Snowpocalypse is on the horizon. (well, I have enough diet gingerale to last me til March Madness.)

I got my toes did, and my hair did.

Toes Did!

I shortened my crutches and got a cheapie polar blanket at CVS that I can cut into strips to add padding. I picked up my Vicodin prescription, found my Tylenol, and made sure I had ice.

I’ve picked up and been given a grand total of 18 22 books, and I’ve added another disc to my Netflix plan. I cleaned my apartment and did all my laundry.

Whole lotta books!

I worked 41 hrs in 4 days, trying to transition all my work to my awesome colleagues.

I. Am. Ready.

But I am freaking terrified, of what might go wrong, or that he might get in there and not find anything after all, and then what???

I have perspective, and I know I am lucky. My coworker left this week for Boston, where she’s undergoing 8 weeks of proton radiation, as she has three tumors on her brain. Worst case for me, I never run again. I would be very, very sad. And I might go a little crazy. But then I would go back to cycling and body pump and all would be well, and my life will go on. But the stakes for her are much, much higher. So every time I get irritated and frustrated over the next 8 weeks, I need to remember that.

Also, I have a puppydog. And she’s awesome.