Here I am ... 24 hours after the realization that a major, massive, monumental change is coming my way.
I don't feel at all like I had expected. I'm more frightened than I would have thought. That seems odd to me. I mean what could possibly be worse (with regard to this surgery, specifically) than feeling like a prisoner (and a justly convicted one, at that) inside a body belonging to someone else? For surely, this body is not my own.
What could be more frightening than being taken to the hospital, thinking I was having a heart "episode" of some sort? Kissing my kids goodbye and silently praying it wouldn't be the last time? Writing about this now seems overly dramatic ... and those of you who read platitude paradise already know the outcome of the story ... but all I could think as we made that trip was: if I leave my children without their mother, it's nobody's fault but my own.
That, my friends, is some tough shit to swallow.
I had already begun the process of the surgery prior to that day in July. Had already spent years trying to decide if I should do something so drastic ... but if ever there had been room for doubt, that evening removed it. As frightened as I am to go through this, those were the most terrifying couple of hours of my entire existence.
And yet ... I cried yesterday. Not really sure what emotion(s) was (were) behind that, but I cried, none the less. Then, I pulled some chicken out of the freezer to defrost and headed down to my treadmill.
But then, the dinner hour descended. During dinner, we sit as a family - with my mother included - and eat together. We also chat (and yell at the kids to pleasefortheloveofgodeatyourdinner! and stopsinging - don'tkickmeunderthetable - or - chewwithyourmouthopen! and finally, SIT DOWN!). After the girls had consumed the requisite sustenance, they were excused and the real trouble began.
Mom and I started to chit chat. (Hubs worked last night, so was not present for this little convo.) Just for some background, my youngest sister flew home from the UK on Tuesday. She's been there for the past year - literally backpacking around Europe. This is the same sister that has a degree in child psychology with specialization in dealing with special needs. She gets paid almost as well as most lawyers. (I'm not jealous AT ALL) She also has a LOT of opinions about our methods of parenting ... bearing in mind, of course that she is all of 26 and is not only not married, but has no children. (yes, this bloody DOES matter to my story)
Where was I? Oh, yes ... my baby sister. She's also got a waist size of about 24". Not that she doesn't work at it ... she does, for sure ... but she has never EVER been fat. This brings me to my point (I know, I know ... I do take my time with this ... what did you expect, really?), while chatting over the remains of the meal, Mom informs me that she told "Sissy" about my plans to have weight loss surgery. Now, this in and of itself is not such an horrendous thing ... although I really don't feel it was her place to say a goddamned thing to ANYONE.
To my credit, I didn't freak. But I think she sensed the shift behind my facade and quickly said that my family NEEDS to know this stuff. I disagree, but whatever ... no point in closing the barn door once the cattle has escaped, right? Then, she stated that if one of them were having surgery, I would want to know. I think that is subject to why they were having it, personally, but this is the same argument I suppose. She then informed me that she hadn't told my aunt and cousin on her recent visit with them - even though her reason for that definitely was NOT because she was embarrassed about it or anything. (This from the woman who refuses to tell anyone that she moved out of her in law suite into my house for the embarrassment factor) Like this was supposed to garner praise? Argh!
I had had my fill by this point and said that I understood why she told both of my sisters, but that I would appreciate she left it at that, and didn't tell anyone else. I went on to explain that there is a great deal of shame associated with this and in addition, many people are of the opinion that this is "the easy route". I really don't want to have to add the pressure of the uninformed opinions of others to my own. Mom agreed and seemed to understand my point, but then went on to describe the conversation she had with my youngest sister: "she wasn't negative about it or anything. I mean, she thought about it for a bit and was concerned about the psychological aspect of weight loss" ... "she finished by saying 'it's kind of like working on the problem from the outside, in'... I hope she can handle that."
Perhaps I am entirely too sensitive here ... but WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?! Sanctimonious much? Where do these two even get off talking about the hardest decision of my life like I'm picking out fugly carpet? And why, for the love of everything good and holy would my mother be sharing this with me like I should be so pleased for the opinion?
Am I nuts here? Have I lost my mind? I'm asking ... for real. Who in the holy hell do they think they are? And just why is it that my weight loss surgery has ANYTHING to do with my mother ... or sister, for that matter? Next thing, I'll have an invitation to Maury fuckin' Povich coming in the mail.
I just don't get it.