My life has taken a bullet train to crazy lately. I never knew that planning for surgery could be so time consuming. I started by making a list that took up an entire sheet of those cute note pages that we have around the house for grocery lists and such. I have since managed to cross off all but one item on that list!
In the past week, I have:
1) Gone on medical leave from my classes (with well wishes from my advisor, and the administration at my university).
2) Set up all my pre-op appointments and asked most of my urgent pre-op questions.
3) Changed my ticket. (Continental was surprisingly easy to deal with. Score!) I can now return to Chile any time in the next year.
4) L. is scheduled to arrive on the 3rd (Please no disruptions from the hurricane! Thank you.)
5.) I paid my credit cards and wrote down all my passwords in a *very* secret place because I’m afraid I’ll forget to pay them later. Would that be so bad, really?
6) Oh and I got a haircut. My surgeon says that I’ll be the proud new owner of a small, crescent-moon shape in the back of my head and that he will “minimize” the effect on my hair, but I decided to chop it off anyway. I don’t want to always be combing my hair and miss a chunk. A friend of mine from high-school had brain surgery about a year ago and she recommended a Rihanna-style cut and that’s what I tried to do, except I have finer hair than her and my bangs weren’t long enough in the front. Hair grows, though. (If I look pale in the photo, I blame it on these potent steroids they have me on.)
The next one I snapped in the mirror. Can you see where the right side of my brain totally forgot to zoom in and took a photo of the wall. Haha… brain joke. There will probably be more of those to come. Just warning you.
9) I’m getting organized! I can’t really take credit for the idea, but my mom decided that we should have a catch all folder with all my pertinent medical information and other things like pens, highlighters, those tabby things that the real organizational freaks get into and such. We are worried that because I’m a high-risk patient (Thanks mastocytosis), we might need to produce information quickly (personal experience has taught me that most doctors and nurses could use a little help in the rare disease category of Jeopardy) and we need to have it in front of us. Now, I’m just ready to get the thing out of my head. I just want it gone. Out. I want to be a normal person again. I want my life back.
One day at a time though, right?