Willa's Big Adventure

I've thought several times about updating the journal, but it's hard to know what to say. And it seems like every time I come up with something to write about, something else comes up that destroys my confidence and makes my inspiration seem silly or trite. I'm trying not to be a drama queen about it all, because I know there are a lot of people whose problems are a lot more serious than mine. It's hard sometimes, though, to keep that sense of perspective.

I started having problems again over Thanksgiving (should I use euphemisms or just spit it out? I don't know.), so I called the doctor's office yesterday and asked if I should be concerned about my bloodcount, i.e., if it's awhile until I have surgery, is there a chance of my becoming anemic? Again, like last time, they said, "Can you come in tomorrow?" which is always frightening.

I told Bob that, and said, any other time it would take six weeks to get an appointment. He said, well, it depends on what you're calling about. Pretty much any time you call and say you're bleeding, they're going to get you in right away.

So they set me up to go in this morning and give some blood, and also to have a consultation with the surgeon. And so it begins, all moving very fast now.

I liked him. He was matter-of-fact without being cold, personable without being too friendly; he made me comfortable, he didn't make me feel like just a body that he was going to be working on. So I was really glad about that--it made me feel more confident. He described the surgery to me (awfully scary) and the various ways it can be performed; whether he can do the easier way (which makes recovery quicker) depends on whether he has to work on my bladder.

So I go in on the 15th to have some kind of bladder function test (I bet that's going to be fun!), and depending on the outcome of that, he'll know what kind of surgery he's going to have to perform (abdominal or laparoscopic) and I'll have a better idea of my recovery time. I was shuttled between the appointment desk to set up the bladder test, to the lab to give blood, then to the surgery counseling person, who had me sign all kinds of forms, gave me lists of what to do (enema!) and not do (no eating!) prior to surgery.

And in a couple of days I'll get the results of the blood test, and we'll know whether I'm at risk of becoming anemic (or already am), and he'll decide what we need to do about that.

Let's see. Plus side. Almost everyone there is really friendly, and very nice. I liked the surgeon a lot. There was special Christmas tissue paper (printed with snowmen and cups of hot chocolate) on the examining table, and some of the nurses were wearing wonderful Christmas print uniform tops. I really enjoyed that. I'm clutching at straws here . . .

I do keep trying to think of positive things. One positive thing is that I've lost weight and have improved my physical condition, which I'm sure will help in my recovery from surgery. I keep wondering whether I somehow "knew" that I was going to be called upon to do something difficult, and that was my unknown motivation for getting in shape. I'll never know, of course, and I guess it doesn't matter, but it's something I've been thinking about.

It's better to think that way than the way I originally was thinking (and still do in dark moments) about how horribly ironic it all is, that I got busy and lost weight and worked out, and look younger and better than I have in a few years, only to be hit with this on my 50th birthday.

I had really wanted to try and make this a good year. I didn't want to dread it, so I tried to make it a positive thing by writing my Fifty Things, buying a new journal, buying myself a birthday present (well, I always do that), and my secret wish that I hadn't told anyone was that I wanted to have an adventure. Not a BIG adventure, just something special that I could remember this year by. I guess I got my wish.