My mother is having surgery today. I slept a very little last night – tossing and turning. It’s the first time I’ve had a bad dream since the unfortunate snake dream about two months ago *shudders*. The operation will only be three hours long and although if it were anyone else, anyone else in this world I’d be fine and assured in the fact that the surgeon is experienced and it is unlikely that anything will go wrong, I can’t shake the fear and worry that’s dropped like stone in the pit of my stomach.
This is my mother after all – my rock, my life. I’ve said several times to persons (who probably think I’m being dramatic) that the surgeon shall have my life in his hands as surely as he would if I were lying on that operating table myself. Of course there’s a lot of me that wishes it were me instead of her. Weird logic? Not really. I think anyone who has loved anyone as unconditionally as I love my mum can completely relate to this.
The fact remains though, as one friend pointed out to me, there’s nothing I can do at this venture. I’ve last spoken to her about ten minutes ago and they are prepping her for surgery. This is going to happen whether I feel ready or not. Everything is out of my hands. At some point in time, well at this moment sooner rather than later, I need to let go of the fear and anxiety and fill myself instead with hope and faith. If only there were a University course in that.
Wish me luck. Keep my mum in your thoughts.