The jig is up. I'm not as strong as I look. Not right now, not at this moment. I'm a little bit broken.
I'm freaking terrified. It didn't dawn on me how nervous I am for this (my husband to get the Stellate Ganglion Block) until my old coworkers working the night shift showed up at work tonight when I finished my new shift (until midnight). Mother Theresa, my most beloved RN who is very much a cheerleader for me, walked on to the unit, and anxiety just paralyzed for me a minute.
I so wanted to crumple to the floor. At her feet. I don't know if this is the right thing to do after all. But her calm and ever so compassionate presence lifted me off the floor.
One of my closest confidants, Brannan, you may know her as the founder of this operation, FOV... thinks this was meant to be.
"You walked right into it, Kat." Did I? I sure the heck did. I called the doctor, I tracked him down, I asked him to help us. I asked. I hope to God this works. People say, "I'll pray for your family" and I hope that God believes in us. We certainly don't deserve his belief in us, but if he does, I won't argue.
But I think of ALL the combat vets I know who have struggled, who are still struggling, and I think, I have to be strong. My husband is a little nervous, he told me so, but he seems okay... he is strong.
I went with a coworker again and we worked out. I pushed myself for the third day straight in the gym. Snot pouring out of my nose, sweat pouring off my body. I haven't been *this* nervous in a long time. If ever. It felt good to push myself. As I was working out my friend asked a little about if I was nervous, and my chin started quivering. The tell tale sign of my about to break down in full on tears and snot. But I just kept pushing. I got through it.
Driving home after our workout, I thought, I just need to get home and I'll be okay and we can put this whole thing into perspective. I walked in my door, greated by the thump thump thump of our Golden Retriever's tail (his name is Soldier of course), and was shocked by what I saw.
A spick and span, army cleaned, obsessively cleaned house.
This only means one thing in my world. When I am away and my husband cleans like this, it means he is anxious. Its what he does with his nervous energy. So he doesn't have to think about whatever it is that is bothering him. He hasn't done this in awhile, so you can imagine my surprise...
How are we existing with this nervousness and not clashing. We are both buzzing with nervous, excited, scared energy, but we haven't fought, we haven't argued, we haven't even really talked. We haven't even really discussed what is going to happen. We just both have the quiet resolve of "it will happen."
This almost seems fake. Like a big joke. I haven't talked to Kevin the assistant, or Dr. Lipov himself, or his public relations woman since the day they said to come. I have the tickets, the hotel, everything I need has been mapped out and placed before me. The sick and twisted part of me says, you'll get to the airport and TSA will say, No these are fake tickets. I'll get to the hotel, and they will say, there is no reservation for that name. I'll get to the clinic and the staff will say, Dr Who? We don't have you scheduled for today, sorry.
But, enough worry. Enough what if. I have been KILLING myself with What ifs. I so love that game, and I am VERY good at it. What if he has a seizure, what if it doesn't work, what if he freaks? What if it fails? What if it works? What if it works how do I go back to work and believe in what I do at my job? What if it works and HE can't believe in his job anymore?
This one time, this one true very important and life changing moment, I have one thing to say. And for those who know me intimately, you know how hard but sweet this is,
"God, let your will be done."
Good night, we travel tomorrow.