I am as prepared as I can be. I wanted to write a post before going to the hospital but I don’t think this will be a very long or informative one. I’m exhausted.
On Friday, a nurse called to tell me to be at the hospital at 5 am on Monday. At least there won’t be traffic.
My son is taking me. A dose of Karma for all those 2 AM feedings when he was a baby. Now at 30, he seems to be looking forward to taking care of his mommy.
I raised a good one!
I have packed my stuff for the hospital initial stay and another bag for the rehab stay, cleaned out the frig, took out the trash and recycling, reminded the neighbors to get my mail, made lists of things I needed to remember to fax to the insurance company, changed the sheets on my bed (actually a friend stopped by and did it for me), did some laundry, loaded the dishwasher and …worried.
I’m doing the right thing. I know it. But with any surgery, there is always a ‘what if?”
I have had many surgeries. Some minor, some major and before each one, I wrote a note to my son and left it in my jewelry box. When I returned for the hospital, I always tore it up but each time, I still wrote one and left it for him. It’s not a long note but it is important to me that I write it.
I ‘ll write another tonight and this time, I’ll also write one for my grandson Bennett.
Some people might think it morbid, or that I’m tempting fate. I think of it as a parent thing. If I don’t come home, I want him to know how proud I am of him and that I loved being his momma.
I fully intend on tearing it up because I know I’ll come home, nevertheless, it will be there for him.
Just in case.