Waiting

I'm due to have an operation in a couple of days. Its not really a particularly dangerous operation per se, but it is pretty serious. And its on my head which makes it seem more scary. And in general I'm not all that over-awed with the idea of being operated on. Of being knocked out. Of losing control and having no say in what happens to me. At the possibility of things going wrong. At the form I've signed allowing them to do whatever they need to once they start. Its explorative surgery. The boundaries arn't really defined. They'll decide what needs doing once they get in. But I don't have a choice. I have to go through with it because its too risky not to. Because the dangers associated with NOT having the surgery are life-threatening. Its the surgery or nothing. There's no drugs that could fix things. No other option.

But my husband dreamt I was going to die. He has whole churches in Nigeria praying to god to save me. He tried to talk the surgeon into operating with me awake. He's spent a year trying to convince me not to have the operation. My dad agrees. He doesn't think my disease exists because he can't find it on the internet. That the doctors are making it up. My mum thinks I should have the operation but can't sleep at night because they've freaked her out. She has churches in England and Ireland praying for me.

I know too much. I'm a biochemist. I've done research. I know what the doctors arn't telling me. I know why the five doctors I've seen over the past 18 months are all telling me to have the surgery as soon as possible. So I agreed. Signed the forms. It going ahead. But I'm scared. The logical sciency bit of me is saying that its the right choice. That the surgery is low risk. That I'll be fine. The remaining overdramatic, overimaginative majority of me is terrified. I want to run and hide. Stick my head in the sand and wait for it all to go away. Pretend that everything is fine. Pretend that its happening to someone else. Think happy thoughts and wish it away. I'm not the type of person that can shrug off someone telling me they think I'm going to die. I'm too superstitious. I think too much. I'm caught halfway between attempting complete denial (don't think/talk about it and everything'll be fine) and lying awake all night because its the only thing on my mind. I want to talk to all the people that I care about. Resolve outstanding issues just in case I don't get another chance. To write letters for my children to say the things I'd like to say to them as grown-ups. But I can't. That feels like a self-fulfilling prophecy. That if I allow myself to act as though it might go wrong then its more likely to. Not very scientific thinking, but then I've never been good at molding myself to fit other peoples labels and beliefs. So I wait. Permanently conscious of the slow ticking of seconds. Only two more days to go.

Fear

I used to have panic attacks. I say used to because for the past ten years or so I've pretty much had them under control, but the panic is still there, simmering under the surface, waiting to grab a hold of me. And I'm scared of things. I'm scared of a lot of things. Spiders. The dark. Chicken bones. Driving to places when I don't know where I'm going. Being late. The unknown. Flying.

But mostly I'm scared of fear itself. That if I'm scared it'll turn to panic and I'll lose control. And control is important. Its what makes me feel safe. The coping mechanism that enables me to over-rule the irrational thoughts and calm the physical symptoms that are so overwhelmingly unpleasant.

So I have an instinct to stay within my comfort zone. To avoid doing anything that may cause me to panic. To limit myself to the familiar, to the day-to-day activities that I can cope with without fear. But I have to fight it. The problem with a panic-preventative safety zone is that it continually shrinks. An unexpected twist to a routine activity on any given day can relocate that activity out of bounds. I can't live that way. In ever decreasing circles. I need my life. So I push through it. I chose the things I'm not willing to give up and force myself to do them. To face the fear. To control it. Repeat the activity over and over again until it becomes routine and easy.

Its a battle I have to fight in waves. I have long periods when its really not an issue at all. Other times like now, where its almost a daily battle to work through. I'm pretty self aware. I know that its a symptom of stress caused by a combination of factors. But I'm unwilling or unable to give up those things that are causing the stress.