The thing is, I’ve been hiding like a scared little chicken shit from some things. And the reason for that is.. Well. Because I have become a scared little chicken shit. I have become absolutely positively frightened beyond my ability to move forward with some things. I understand radical acceptance. Radical acceptance is the thing which I have used many times in the past to get myself forward through many things which were unpleasant and I didn’t want to go through, but it’s not that simple all the time. Mind over matter can only work so much. Eventually, even moles stop sticking their heads up if they think a hammer is going to come down on their heads.
And that’s the trick. What if you were a mole in a hole, but so long as you had your caregiver with you, the incidence of hammer plopping down on your head was only one in eighty? And then it was only when you couldn’t be watched. When your caregiver’s back was turned because they were in the bathroom or something? I mean. That would make going through strenuous circumstance a little easier. It just would. You brave up, you talk yourself through, nothing all that bad happens, just some things that never should but do, but nobody dies.. But. BUT! Since COVID. Since COVID. Things have been going really, really wrong. And the loopholes to jump through, regardless of whether you follow the rules. They’re. Well. They’re a nightmare. A goddamned nightmare designed to be harmful.
So when things get out of control bad and I know I have to do something absolutely terrible. Terrible to the max, and it’s even worse because Master Pravus can’t be there with me. I mean, I start just. Staring off into space like a deer in the headlights. No amount of talking me through seems to get me there. Like a motherfucking child. Mature, yes? Yes.
My last inpatient surgery was so bad, that even Master Pravus was scared about me having the next one done. And the biggest worst part about having it done? The hospital refused to let him stay with me, despite the rules clearly stating he should be able to because of my complex medical history and disability. Once I got there they gave us a song and a dance about how “Ohh no, you gotta set that up ahead of time.” But we did call ahead of time, and they said he could go back, and then. They wouldn’t let him. And let’s completely forget about the fact that they threw my personal wheelchair in the parking lot even though I had them label it as mine and it looks nothing like a hospital chair. AHEM. Anyway. That’s all the small fry crap. There were serious things that could have killed me that happened at that last visit, and it’s because I was alone with nobody listening to me. Terrible.
So anyway. I have a hernia. It’s been repaired twice. But its been repaired with unsuitable materials and it broke twice. In fact, it broke when we were buying this house we live in now. And it needs to be repaired. It’s getting to be really serious. It’s in a bad location and it’s going to be substantial surgery. It’s. The opposite of cool. I don’t wanna go through with it at all. I have been referred for a consult though, because the longer I let this go, the worse it will be. And that’s. I mean. I have to be careful.
So I have to get this fixed. And they’re going to fix it in November. And THIS TIME. THIS TIME we got the approval verbally from the doctor as well ahead of time. And we called the patient advocate who remembered me (ugh!) and they’re going to make arrangements for Master Pravus to stay with me in the hospital to watch over me, because it’s too fucking dangerous for me to be in there alone. I don’t know how long I’m going to have to be in there. He said “at least a couple of days” at the beginning of the appointment. And then he said “For awhile” at the end of the appointment. And Master Pravus is thinking 3-4 days based on our past experience, but. I, being the annoying little scallop I am, am going to probably wake up the next morning and go “I feel fine. I can go nows?” and hopefully they let me out. Because I’d rather be miserable at home than miserable in the hospital. I mean. I hate it there. So much.
But this doctor did say this wouldn’t be easy surgery. And he asked me if I was prepared for it. And he made a big statement about how things sometimes go wrong and that doesn’t make it his fault, or my fault, but the fault of my illness, and we can blame anything that goes wrong on my Ehlers-Danlos.. And I thought. Yes. I mean. He’s not wrong. But I don’t really like the sound of that because it seemed so ominous. >.> How about “Let’s fix it and everything will be great. How about that? Blech.
I do realize that the cycle of staring at the wall out of fear of what has to be done can’t continue. I realize that I have to move forward in order to move forward. So I’m moving forward. Forward is the way forward.
So. Fix-It Day: Nov 8th. Wish me luck.