Jittery, skittery...

Less than a week left before my surgery. I’m getting really nervous. Today has been particularly hard. J leaves on Monday morning to travel for work – he’ll be gone Monday – Wednesday. My surgery is Thursday. This weekend we’re traveling out of town to visit my grandmother. I have a hundred things to do between now and next Thursday:

* Christmas shopping. I haven’t done any. I will probably be too sore after surgery to do any. Christmas with my fam is Dec. 22nd. Crap. As I mentioned before I have decided not to tell any of my fam about surgery…so somehow I’m going to have to hide this. Let’s see, breast surgery + seeing family for the holidays = lots of very painful hugs.

* My brother is coming in from CA, the day after my surgery, so I have to fit in seeing them. Them and their stupid fertile abili-ties.

* Immediately after Christmas, we leave for Belize. There’s no way I’ll be recovered enough for a bikini, so I’m not even packing one. The airport we’re flying out of is 4 hours away – so we still have to figure out logistics for that trip.

* We have yet to get a Christmas tree. We’re supposed to fit that in tonight before we get together with some friends for dinner. I have no idea when / if it will be decorated. In fact, I’m much less enthused to decorate it now that I’ve learned my in-laws will no longer be staying with us for the holidays:

* My mother-in-law (in attempt to try to make things easier on us) suggested we stay with them xmas eve, that way we don’t have to buy food right before we leave for vacation. Ha – like I was going to cook. Isn’t Papa John’s open on Christmas Eve? Very sweet of her, really. But with all the running around we’ve been doing (and lots more to come). Not to mention my complete lack of time/space to heal from impending surgery, I was really looking forward to sitting on my ass, on my couch, sipping my own very spiked eggnog. Now we’ll be living out of a suitcase, driving, hauling the dog around, and well, NOT sitting on my ass on my couch.

* Monday I have my blood work at the lab. Call me a wimp, but I get so nervous about having blood taken I could throw up. I can almost handle the surgery better– at least I’m asleep for that.

* Speaking of “handling the surgery” – did I mention I’m a nervous wreck? No? Oh. Well, I am. I want to jump in my canoe, ship off to sea and resurface in 5 years with amnesia. J, how does Panama sound to you? The drive to the hospital next Thursday is going to suck. I can see me grabbing the wheel out of J’s hands and trying to flip a U.

* Boobs. What is it with boobs and why are they so important? I’m not a vain person unless I’m having a particularly good hair day – so why am I spending 99% of my day freaking the fuck out over how I’ll look after this is over? Hell, our sex life has already taken quite the beating over it. Just the thought of what’s to come – and the huge mass of crap in me is enough to make me not want to be touched right now. How the hell am I going to feel when I come home beaten, bruised, stitched, carved and ultimately – scarred? My girls are in their prime for god’s sakes. There are topless beaches I have yet to conquer.

* The Big C: Why in god’s name am I freaking out over my boobs when there’s a much bigger and obvious threat hanging in front of me?

* The Two Week Wait. Hey, remember all those posts of me bitching about the 2 week wait after IVF to see if you’re pregnant? Ahhh, those were good times. From everything I’ve read (again, I was too deer-in-the-headlights to ask my doctor questions), it’s a 2 week wait after surgery to get test results back. The (new) Two Week Wait – damn the irony.

* The Six Week Wait. Honestly, I found the lump on Halloween. Can we just get it the fuck out of me already? It’s the second week of December for God’s sakes. Put me out of my misery.

* Whole Mess of Crap. I’ll just leave this little asterisk for all the other mess of gunk I’m currently forgetting to freak out about, but I’m sure I will later. That’s the thing about me freaking out – my brain can only handle so much at one time. For instance, this morning I was in such a haze that I brushed my teeth, but it took me 20 minutes to realize I had forgotten to use toothpaste. I feel like an Alzheimer's patient right now. I’m constantly repeating myself, re-asking questions and spacing out. Cooking dinner has turned into a mammoth project, which has ended with me being in tears twice now. Apparently operating more than one stove burner at a time is simply more than I have the capacity for.

Watch for me on the news: "Woman's Head Explodes Due to Whole Mess of Crap"

Video at 11.