nce upon a time, in a land far, far away there lived a goat who spent her days skipping merrily through the meadow; exploring pastures abundant in tender grasses with a bounce in her step and a crown of jewels within her mouth. Content (and not saddled with directional impairment), Her life was rather pleasant , unhindered, free .......
Then why in tarnation do I all of a sudden feel like FREAKING OUT!!! No worries, this too shall pass, yada yada yada, and let's not forget how very long it is until anythings even going to happen, but it's almost like the nerves snuck up on me, "who's that walking on my bridge" as the trolls jump out to devour the poor little Billy goat. Ba-a-a-a-a-h!
When it comes to actual procedures, what to expect, I've done a fair amount of homework, I finally worked up the courage to watch the procedures highlighted with the Warning: Graphic! labels attached (Trust me, they deserve this designation ~*hurl*). I don't really care for surprises and would prefer to know what's coming. This whole process has been a long time coming and was subject to much scrutiny. It really has been saved as a last resort so I feel confident that this IS what I need to do. Does it sound to you like I'm trying to convince myself?! It's more all of the little uncontrollable extras that have my heart racing in the middle of the night. Some might even say that it's stupid stuff.
I guess the root of it is that I'm really struggling with how little the people around me comprehend just how scary this is, and if they don't get that, how in the heck are they going to get that I really am going to need help?! I have people come up and ask if I've had the surgery yet, people I see on a regular basis. I bite my tongue and refrain from screaming, "NO, Moron!"
To be even more honest, I HATE that I'm going to need help. Period. I don't want tubes invading every orifice (whether I'm aware of them or not). I don't want to drool like an imbecile and ooze bloody gunk uncontrollably for a couple of weeks, and not even know it. I don't want to feel like I'm choking & drowning inside my own fat head. I don't want to cheer the accomplishment of finally having the strength to shower, or pee without needing a nap. I don't want to view oatmeal as the great frontier in culinary accomplishment. Don't want weeks of swamp mouth. Don't want to wonder what lurks beneath the bruises. Don't want to wonder when a kiss will feel like a kiss. Can you just envision the toddler laying on the floor screaming: arms and legs pounding the floor? This is my tantrum.
Okay, so this might wake me up but I promise I'm not letting it keep me up; just a momentary blip in the hard drive. I do know that the whole one-day-at-a-time thing is important and the advantages to staying positive, which on most days I truly am. I love how real you all are in sharing what you're going through; I cheer your accomplishments, sympathize the setbacks. I KNOW all the right responses, expectations and actions to make it through this relatively unscathed....in my head. I suppose it's translating this into faith, feeling it in your heart and believing your head that's the clincher. (Orthognathic surgery as a religion? Hmmmmm....) Lather, rinse, repeat.
Ahhhhhh....Thanks guys. I feel better now. The goat DOES make it over that bridge, right? Better go outsmart me some trolls!
8 years ago