3 more ‘sleeps’ till my big day. What could be the start of the rest of my life. But sleep is not coming easy to me, hence the marks which I cannot remember the name for.
5 nights in a row I was waking around 3 and then unable to get to sleep again. I tried breathing, meditation and reading but sleep remained elusive. Wednesday I had therapy and that night I slept through.
I guess we had a bit of a break through, I’ve been having anxiety attacks and hyper focusing on everything else that I could control. It even came down to being rather anal about the placement of food on my plate – nothing touching and everything in an organised manner. No cucumber and pepper spread across my lettuce, all must be separate. Like I said – anal. I mean it’s something I’ve always done to an extent but it’s become extreme. I had to have control over everything else because I feel so unsafe not having control over things and this operation and its outcome are beyond anyone’s control.
I’ve felt intense fear and anxiety over this op. I feel so much pressure because its outcome means so much and can change so much. I had so many thoughts I couldn’t hear then, it was just noise in my head and this heavy feeling in my chest I couldn’t shift. And then I had therapy. Lee has a remarkable ability to get to the root of the issue. For me it was guilt. I had no idea how much guilt I felt but it was there and suddenly felt so raw. Guilt over feeling fear and anxiety when I asked for this, I fought for this. Guilt over why me, why do I deserve this operation. Why am I the one that gets the chance to be better. Why do I deserve the NHS to spend £30k on this operation for me?
I know you’re probably reading that and thinking it’s totally irrational. I agree they are, but they are a product of 30 years of conditioning. It’s hard to break all that shit overnight. I ended therapy feeling like I could take a deep breath for the first time in a while. The heaviness was much lighter.
Fast forward to last night – I woke at 2.30am. I eventually fell asleep again just before 7 but had a nightmare followed by sleep paralysis. Known as a sleep paralysis demon, something I’ve had on and off since I was very young. But last nights was a nightmare about post op complications. Specifically I was in the bath with my knees to my chest. Suddenly I started to tense up and then I couldn’t breathe, or move, or call for help. Full paralysis. Then I woke in the recovery post, unable to do all of the above still. Shitty stuff really.
Today I’m in agony and exhausted, yet at the same time I am very restless. My cup is empty and there is nothing that seems to be able to distract me enough.
On a positive I’ve managed to see all my loved ones this week, with just my grandma and sister to go tomorrow. It’s totally fucked me over but had been worth it. I also extended myself to my limits financially and bought Bella a new orthopaedic bed. She’s aging fast and her dementia is making her far more dramatic than normal over her achy joints. So she had fresh pyjamas and a fucking enormous bed so hopefully help her get the rest she deserves too. We can recover together.
Enjoy the photo of Bella for her first night in her new bed and thank you for reading my tales of panic and joy. I’ll probably be back before Monday, perhaps I’ll even share the amusing sharpie doodles my surgeon will no doubt do again!
