T-1

The conclusion of the countdown is on. It's T-1 (that's T minus one) to surgery day.

This morning, Michael and I are working our way through the list - get groceries, mow the lawn, do laundry, pack for the hospital, pay the bills, etc. Luckily, we're both home and working together as a team, as usual. It also means we can provide emotional support for each other.

On the weekend during our mini vacation (which was awesome), we didn't really think about the surgery. We focused on having fun, not on the difficulties to come. That period of denial is over, and we have to prepare physically and emotionally for the weeks to come.

Michael's stress is manifesting itself in frustration with the kids. Noah can be difficult at the best of times, but his challenging behaviour ignited Michael's fuse much earlier this morning. I explained to Noah that mom and dad are nervous about the surgery, and how I felt he was old enough to understand and adapt his behaviour appropriately. I know that's asking a lot of an 11-year-old boy with bipolar disorder, but if we never test whether he's mature enough to turn his empathy into action, we'll never know. He may pleasantly surprise us.

Personally, I haven't thought about the surgery much - yet. I will review the preadmission information and pack my bag for the hospital today, which is when, I figure, the reality of the situation will hit home. (That and when I can't have any coffee or breakfast tomorrow morning! Nothing to eat or drink past midnight.)

To prepare, I have to remove my nail polish so the nurses can use the nail beds to ensure my extremities are getting enough oxygen. I need to take off and store all my jewelry. I must pack activities for in the hospital to make it easier to take my mind off the pain. Michael is kindly adding a new playlist to my iPod with relaxing, get better music, which is replacing my running music, for now. I think I'll also be able to bring my computer to the hospital and access the Internet, so I may be able to blog from the hopsital.

The unknown of the entire situation is the most disconcerting and stressful for me. How long will I be in the hospital? How will I feel when I wake up? Will I recover quickly? How will the kids respond to seeing me in the hospital? (Is that when the illness will hit home for them?). Will Michael cope okay?

The biggest - and scariest - unknown is what will the surgery reveal? I'm terrified the surgeon will announce the cancer is more widespread than he thought and that the surgery didn't go well.

I'm trying to be positive. I want to envision him saying to my family in the waiting room, "The surgery went well. We got all visible traces of the cancer and the subsequent chemotherapy should take care of the rest." That's what I want to hear.

So please keep me in your thoughts and prayers tomorrow. Envision the positive outcome and pray it comes true.

Your nervous friend,
Tina