Fearful

Tomorrow is the big day.
SURGERY day.

When I get to have all of what I struggled for, through pain and battles with the insurance and infection to have...removed.

It is so surreal to look back on 2010, and how excited we were for a new method of bone marrow transplant, so could finally have some teeth in the pit of doom in my mouth.
I haven't had teeth over there for about 16 years.

And now, knowing what I know and what I have suffered, I wish I had never done it.
But hindsight is always perfect.

Last night we had a 12/12/12 potluck.  I slaved in the kitchen over an asparagus spinach dip.  I was making it for the first time and of course created my own recipe.
I kept adding cheese and stirring it until it was creamier.  When we got to our friend's apartment and heated it in the oven, it was so delicious and gooey.
It was a big hit.

And I had too much wine and the fear that I have been pushing off overwhelmed me and I started sobbing. In my friend's kitchen.  Right in the middle of our 12/12/12 potluck.
I am such a party pooper.
I suddenly became as gooey as the yummy spinach artichoke dip.
I was in pain from eating, and had to excuse myself to the bathroom to dry heave.

The pain in my mouth and jaw has been so excruciating the last few days that when anything remotely touches the swollen lump in my mouth at the implant site, I dry heave, and sometimes actually vomit from the pain.
Which has never happened to me.  It sucks.
When I called the surgeon to ask for a prescription painkiller yesterday, she said "you can wait until after your surgery" and hung up on me.
True story.

I have lost my voice from stress and pain, and when someone in my department makes me laugh, it comes out as a squeak.

I can't stop thinking about the surgery itself, mainly the anesthesia.
I always konk out when they first give it to me, but then I tend to wake up during the surgery itself, which is terrifying.  My heart is racing right now as I write this, just remembering previous surgeries.
I always want Eli there with me, so his face is the last thing I see as I go under (I know it is silly, but I always think just in case I don't wake up...).
I am absolutely terrified that the surgeon is going to break my jaw.
It is a risk.

I have to stop writing about this now, and thinking about it, before I give myself a heart attack.
I am nauseous and lightheaded just for having vocalized these thoughts!

I am trying to stay positive and not think about the "what IFs." 
I will be fine.  This will go well.  We will be 2 for 2 on successful implant removal surgeries.
I've been building up some good karma lately (letting other drivers merge on the highway in front of me, returning my shopping carts to the designated area, giving change to the bell-ringers, bringing my co-workers tea, and speaking nicely to everyone on the phone, even the mean receptionists of my surgeon) and a few people have me on their prayer lists.

All I can do is send my good thoughts into the world, palms up, and hope.

Where hope would otherwise become hopelessness, it becomes faith. 

~Robert Brault