The anticipation is killing me!

i got tired of waiting for my ship to come in
tired of waiting, waiting for the bus
tired of waiting for my shoes to get fixed
tired of waiting, waiting for my cheque
tired of waiting for a change in the weather
tired of waiting for the water to boil
tired of waiting for the paint to dry
tired of waiting, waiting for a sign
tired of waiting for my big break
tired of waiting for the dam to break
tired of waiting for the bombs to drop
tired of waiting and waiting and waiting
i got tired of waiting for the end
“Tired of Waiting”, No Means No, Wrong LP1989 and reissued in 2005
* Warning: some free association emotional writing to follow; might be a bit of a downer to some. If you don’t understand free association, it basically is subconscious writing and doesn’t always represent the current conscious emotional state, just the undercurrent.*
I wasn’t sure if I should actually publish this blog, but in the end, it’s not a social blog, its a place for my feelings. They don’t get any more real than these.
The fear is starting to become tangible, as I wait until Thursday’s meeting with the surgeon. Each day it gets thicker and thicker, and it’s starting to feel like I’m swimming in peanut butter. I know I shouldn’t have this fear, as this is really a quite common procedure these days, but it’s not the actual surgery or recovery that’s got me all stressed; it’s the wait and the unknown. I don’t know when I’m going in. I don’t know if I’ll have a heart attack before I even get in. I don’t know if I’ll have trouble with the anaesthesia or complications on the table, or if the pain drugs after will make me say something stupid or bad to someone I care about. I don’t know if anyone will come visit me in the hospital, or what I’ll do with my time during the 6 weeks after. I don’t know if I’ll be back in this same boat in 5, 10, 20 years, and how it will turn out then. I don’t know if the insurance will be difficult and the benefits, and how I’m going to survive financially if they are. I don’t know what level of helplessness I’ll be in when I get home, and how that’s going to manifest itself into frustration and depression. I don’t know how I’m going to walk to the salad place for my lunch today.
None of these fears by itself is all that heavy or even all that great a fear, but the combined effect is really starting to get a bit paralyzing. I have no fear of the surgery itself really, at least not major concerns, but all these unknowns are creating stress, and (dare I say it) possibly a bit of depression. I’ve recieved tools from the hospital about what to expect, and done a little research but really, none of these words can alleviate the fact that I don’t know what the results are going to be. I can assume and go by the odds, but there is always that nagging doubt in the back of my mind. It hit home yesterday that I’m royally and truly fucked when I was playing foosball at work and had to take some nitroglycerine in the middle of the game. I’ve got so much nitro glycerine in me right now that I’m afraid if you knocked me over I’d explode!! I haven’t played guitar hero or rock band for weeks, cuz they both require a certain amount of movement and it starts to hurt. This sucks ass! Not because i desperately want to play any of these games, but the fact that I can’t makes me feel old, ridiculous and weak. I know all the logic, and I know that it’s not so bad as all this, but the unknown remains, and anyone who knows me knows that I hate the unknown; it’s why I research things.
These days I often find myself doing a bit of soul-searching and wondering if I’m a bad person. Is it wrong that I am angry about all this? Is it wrong that I feel frustration with our medical system for this wait? Is it wrong that I’m embarrassed at my inability to do simple things? Is it wrong that some days I want to curl into a little ball and hide alone in my apartment? Is it wrong that I don’t have the energy for “physical activity” and don’t even have the desire, cuz all I can see is it ending in a sore shoulder and chest or worse? Is it wrong that I fear Ruth and her family seeing me in the hospital or recovery because I will be at my absolute physical bottom? Is it wrong that I fear even more that they don’t see it? Is it wrong that often the two things I want most are the two things most responsible for my being in this place: a cigarette and a bag of chips?
I’d like to think that after Thursday alot of these stressors will be reduced, but I just don’t know. Ruth has been privy to the stresses I’m feeling, and has been incredibly cool with it all. Her patience has been a bright light in all this darkness and gloom, and I feel bad for exposing her to this. I so look forward to the post recovery state of having energy and being pain free and able to do things I enjoyed once again. But the waiting is difficult for me; it’s not something that I’m very good at, and that, upon analysis, is the root of every fear I have about this whole process.

3 comments so far

  1. Cage on

    How about instead of “wrong”, the word is replaced with “normal”. It’s normal and human to think about your future.

    The people that you love are there for you to lean on…and when it’s their turn, they will lean on you.

  2. Rosie on

    I think it’d be weird if you weren’t a little scared :-p

  3. kasia on

    This might sound a bit fruity but it works for me so ah, what the heck, I’ll throw it out there. When I have fear about something that’s unknown, instead of wondering about it, I make up the outcome for it that I want. Then I think about how awesome it’s going to be when it happens. The trick is, once you imagine it, then you have to believe it (and that’s often the tough part). But if you do it enough, you can sort of trick yourself into it. Sounds dorky, I know, but if it helps, who cares. xoxo

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