I was putting my children to bed tonight and my youngest started crying. He cries a lot but this time he was sad, not angry or frustrated. He is scared for me and for himself.
My surgery is Monday and he is apprehensive, as am I.
A few years ago the loss of ME would have meant nothing to me. I had nothing. I felt like I had nothing to live for. If you would like and haven’t read my Palimpsest blog….maybe you should. I thought that my children would be fine, they have a caring and loving father. I had been there to guide them as much as I thought I could. They would have the memory of me. I hoped a good one.
Eventually I found myself back amongst the living…
Whenever someone is ‘put under’ there is always a chance that something can happen.
My middle child asked me if they were putting me down, like a dog, and I told him I was hoping to wake up and not keep sleeping.
I’m not having heart surgery, a transplant…yada, yada, yada…although the pieces of a dead human will be placed in me.
It’s ONLY my knee.
I have already prepared myself mentally (as much as I can) for what I imagine could be the worst scenarios: stroke, the loss of my leg...but not the loss of me. Then sometimes I think I have with this silly blog, the story that is me. I have so much more now though…dreams I could have never imagined before...
This is me trying to share and actually open up with feelings, something I am also scared to do. I do not want to be emotional unavailable.
I’m afraid I won’t come back. My daughter won’t see me as the woman I want, not a door mat but a strong powerful woman, that she can also become.
My boys won’t see and respect an independent woman capable of love.
:)
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