The day before.

I spent the week swinging widely between being calmly zen, and feeling a strong sense of impending death. Today was no exception.

My therapist suggested that I may need to work some of this baggage out before surgery, but I'm kind of feeling like being anxious goes with the territory here. I saw her a few days ago, and she did some guided imagery with me. It was all going well. I sat with my eyes closed as she led me down a wooden staircase, to a vast expanse of beach....beautiful and nearly deserted. Perfect! I've been to just such a beach, at Bald Head Island. That is a great happy zen place to go! She started guiding me through the warm sand. It was going swimmingly, and I thought that maybe this guided imagery shit was just the ticket to quell my nerves the morning of surgery. But suddenly the train went off the rail. I spent the next five minutes deciding what I should wear to the beach, as my therapist continued to prattle along about the feel of the sand. ("Crap! Red swimsuit or black? Decide, Katie! Decide! The red one gives great cleavage, but it pinches a bit. Maybe wear the black one instead?!? Wait, what am I supposed to be doing right now? Feeling the sand with my fingers?!") Once I'd mentally picked a swimsuit, I decided I needed a cover-up - spurred by her line that I "could feel the hot sun on my shoulders." Then, I was supposed to be dipping my toes in the surf, but I had to mentally stop and apply sunscreen. Skin care is just super important to me. By the time I was officially ready to go to the beach, we were counting down to come back to the cramped little office in Kent, Ohio. Dammit.

I'm really just too neurotic for guided anything.

So this week, I tried to find my calm in other ways. Some people shop when they are stressed out (I'm looking at you, Mom). Others down a bottle of wine and watch a Lifetime movie. (Not naming any names with that one.) Me? When faced with serious stress, I compulsively grasp at "healthy living" straws. For the past few days, I've been pretty singularly focused on Doing All The Healthy Things. Food. Sleep. Exercise. Anything. Just don't die, Katie. Today I wanted to go full out. Eat only raw greens. Appreciate the little things. Finally get around to trying chia seeds, maybe?

I watched the sunrise with the kids...which was really quite beautiful.

 

I took a short walk, I saw a rainbow and the fall foliage.

I ate all the superfoods I found on the superfood list. I took my supplements faithfully all week, and kept my prescription meds to a minimum. I only drank the water with the electrolytes. I did some yoga stretches.

 

 I got acupuncture and a little massage work from my amazing and talented friend Eric.

Then, all packed and ready, I got in the car with Nate and headed to Columbus. By the time we got there, two hours later then we expected, I was so effing hungry. I'd had to pee for an hour and I was in no mood for a bowl of raw kale, an hour of taped guided imagery, and an early bedtime. I turned to Nate and said "Fuck meditation and superfoods. I'm gonna take some Vicodin, and let's go out and get some cheeseburgers!" Luckily, I married a man who is always down with some late night burgers. We found this place called Graffiti Burgers. You can draw on paper bags and they'll hang them on the wall for you.

We made a little art while we waited.

 

Then, having eaten mostly kale and berries all day, I attacked my bacon double cheeseburger with angry fury. Hey, I need my iron. I'm probably gonna bleed a lot tomorrow.

Back at the hotel we checked into, I was delighted to find a hot tub. People who know me best know there is little in this world that pleases me more than cheeseburgers and hot tubs. My friend Ryan refers to them as "hot toilets," (due to the disgusting nature of our fellow humans), and I couldn't get this phrase out of my head as I lowered myself into it. I'm pretty sure my surgeon wouldn't approve of me sitting in the 104 degree hot toilet 12 hours before surgery. Ah well. It was worth it.

Nate took this picture. He likes it when I have sad clown mascara.

At my pre-op appointment, they had given me a bottle of surgical scrub Hibicleanse to shower with tonight. I felt it was going to cancel out the hot toilet quite nicely. I deloused myself with the nasty harsh soap and I'm pretty sure I've never been more sterile, and my skin has never been dryer and more uncomfortable in my life! Good sign, I think!

 

So, my surgery is at 10:15, and we have to be there at 8:00 a.m. Nate will be updating both the blog and Facebook tomorrow. Wish me luck, dudes!  xoxo