In this time between diagnosis, and treatment, I dangle, not knowing which way to swing. One minute I’ll be panic struck – knowing how badly I deal with general anaesthetics, and the pain, and the recovery of the surgery – plus the dark black dread of waiting for them to tell me if it’s all benign…..
I swing then to the tired, run down, pain med muddled me, the one that just want this all over and done with. The me that tells myself that I must focus on my destination, rather than the journey this time. That it will all be worth it, the brutality of surgery, and recovery will be swapped by a life free of chronic pain and medication that slows me down.
The panic strikes usually in the dark night, when I lay trembling next to my dearly beloved, and I lie there, churning, worrying, anxious on how will I cope. And then I start to take control, to breath through the panic, to understand that my fear is just that, and that I can control this. I might not have a wonderful recovery period (I set world records in my ability to throw up after a general, which with abdominal surgery is not a really good feeling), but I will recover. That it will be benign (the power of positive thinking here) and that I will soon be back playing with my dear child and partner.
So my way of coping with panic is simple – I believe. I believe that it will all work out. That the pain and suffering will be worth it, and that it will all work out.