Oh the daft, silly and trivial places my troubled mind can travel with insignificant worries pre op.
Not the reasonable, logical worries that aren't actually realistic but a significant few have,
such as:
Will I awake whilst the surgeon is a slicing....
Will they become distracted answering the ultimate question "This is the right breast, right ?" not noticing the pointing finger to the Left breast and simply replying "Yes its the Right breast"...
Dodgy anaesthetic equals 'Sleep 'til death comes healeth this life disease'
Bleeding out, dodgy heart, blood clots and numerous other medical emergencies...
No, none of those wandering worries...
My biggest concerns that kept returning, keeping me awake and very kindly helped me escape the more serious issues that might have actually deserved a faster heart rate and throbbing pulse....:
How am I going to manage to give our feline familiars there 4 cuddles a day plus the soothing bosom that they love to nestle into whilst snoozing, dreaming, purring and dribbling...
The hound will be traumatised, no ball throwing for a couple of weeks, no lying on top of me for reassurance and comfort...
No explanations needed, return home and they all adapt:
Dizzy dribble snuggles next to me purring and dribbling away...
Biscuit smiles sidles onto the table rolling over showing her tummy and chin...
Gizmo, the killer cat, follows me everywhere, wherever I sit or lie she is by my side, content...
Mischief Misti, not in the least bit demanding just as long as she can sit, stare and make eye contact, who needs ball throwing as long as the odd stick can be found on the common...
Proving to me that worrying is pointless, meaningless and a waste of time...
Subconsciously and consciously I will adapt, move on and find the right path...
