Prep Time

My distal pancreatectomy is in two weeks. In the past month I’ve had scans and blood work and so many phone calls about anesthesia and what to do the night before and the morning of. But I’m also prepping my staff and my family and trying to do everything I can to make this absence be as smooth as possible. I’ve ordered extra supplies for work and have made a crazy-ass schedule with part-time staff and substitutes galore and volunteers. I’m training some of those people next week, but like I’ve said before, I do have confidence in everyone. I’m just trying not to stress anyone out more than absolutely necessary. Except myself, of course.

It’s been hard to focus on one thing lately. As I typed that last paragraph? I actually stopped and emailed one of the new subs to update them on their schedule. Why? Because I’m afraid if I don’t do things as soon as I think of them, they’ll be gone from my brain and by the time I remember, it’ll be too late.

Here at home I’ve also been prepping, but more like prepping for my death. I pay the bills in this family and although we have a password notebook anyone can consult to pay said bills, it’s kind of a mess. I know most of the passwords by heart, but if my husband would have to pay a bill, he’d have no idea where to pay or how. We do have a budget and bill payment schedule on our refrigerator, but he doesn’t know which things are automatically paid and which you have to pay online or that one thing we actually have to send a check to or pay in person. So I’m in the process of re-writing our password notebook and have re-done the budget with AUTOMATIC written on certain things. I’ve added all of our passwords to various streaming services to the notebook along with bank info that he probably doesn’t know. I’ve dug out my living will to bring to the hospital and to send a copy to a friend because I want to make sure several folks have it.

When I started doing this a few weeks ago, it made me feel good. I like to be prepared. Remember that post about preparing myself and my home if my husband were to die tomorrow? That shit just helps me cope. But this week? Oi. So not good.

The stress at work felt insurmountable yesterday. Like a child, I actually closed my eyes and put my hands over my ears at one point and told a co-worker to please stop talking. I could feel a full-fledged anxiety attack coming on and I just couldn’t answer one more question. It scared me. Their questions were valid and they should be asking them, but I just COULD NOT deal with them at that moment. I took a few minutes to breathe and we talked and then I was able to answer them again. But that anxiety lingered into the evening and I ended up eating three brownies trying to make myself feel better. Instead I nearly hyperventilated when it came time to go to bed. I put my head between my knees and tried to breathe. I was finally able to lay down, but it took effort to not think. (One of my cats snuggled in on my shoulder and purred away, so that helped.)

Today was a bit more of the same, but not at that same level. I still don’t feel like I’m breathing normally, but I am able to take a deep breath. There’s definitely this level of worry and concern of the unknown–as in how my surgery will go and what my recovery will be like–but also anxiety of the incomplete tasks that still need to be done.

And did I tell you I’m turning 49 next week? The same age of my brother when he died? And that he died at the hospital I’m having my surgery at?

Yeah. I’m freaked. I’m scared and sad and angry and worried and all the damn things.

So…I told my husband last week that I want a session at a local sensory deprivation tank. I have been doing all the things I can to try and relieve stress. First I did the bad things–drink alcohol (which I can’t do anymore until sometime after my surgery or never again) and eat junk food or just eat non-stop. Then I did my usual schtick–run, read with mellow music or nature sounds, walk near the woods (there are so many ticks right now that walking in the woods stresses me out), take my usual anti-anxiety med, chat with friends. But sometimes all of the good things are just not enough.

My husband is the worst gift giver in the world, even when I tell him exactly what I want. And trust me when I say I don’t ask for a lot. I don’t have particularly expensive tastes, and I’m not into jewelry or flowers. Yet typically, even after 25 years of marriage, the old man sometimes just doesn’t quite get it. But this time? This time he came through.

In a few days I’m going to give this thing a try. I’ll float in a tub of water with 1200 pounds of salt. I may have lights and music, or I’ll skip all of that and just be. I have no idea how this will make me feel, but I’m looking forward to giving it a shot, to trying something new, to try and find a little peace.

May you find your own bit of peace this weekend, too. ❤ Hugs to you, my friends.

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