Surgery

 I had my wisdom teeth taken out in college.

I remember the feeling of the world spinning backwards as I went under anesthesia,

I remember my mouth being numb after the surgery and me getting chocolate pudding all over my face because I couldn’t feel my mouth,   

And I remember taking very good care of my mouth after the surgery

Because playing the horn and singing were dependent on my mouth.

I do not, however, remember being overly anxious about the surgery,

Because, I think, I didn’t consider it surgery.

 

This morning, though, I am having real surgery.

If all goes as planned, then the surgery will be laparoscopic,

But I will stay in the hospital overnight,

I will spend Spring Break and two weeks out of work recovering,

And even after that, I won’t be fully recovered for another three weeks.

To say that I’m anxious about the surgery and recovery is an understatement.

I don’t mean to be anxious.

I just am.

 

I trust my doctor and medical team at Rex.

I trust the prayers of those who are praying for me.

I know that the surgery is routine.

I know that I don’t need my trouble-making uterus.

I know that I’ve done everything I can do to prepare my students and substitutes for my absence.

I know that my coworkers will water my plants while I’m gone and help me lift things when I get back.

I know that my dad will do the grocery shopping.

I know that my mom will make sure I am taken care of.

I know that my friends and family will visit and text and help in any way possible.

I know that it’s okay to miss a day or two of black-out poetry.

I know that it’s okay to miss choir.

I know that it’s very unlikely that I will become addicted to pain killers.

 

I just don’t know what I don’t know.

 

And I hate the thought of being blind-sided by the unexpected.

 

Dear God: For all who are anxious—for whatever reason—be peace today. And for all who fear being blind-sided by the unexpected, be present in current reality and help us to find you there. Always. Amen.