This morning, I read my reports, and I got scared.
I started thinking about the possibility of another cervical fusion or another procedure to clean things out. I don’t know yet what will be recommended. I do know that the thought of going through more is hard to sit with.
When you’ve already had surgeries, the word “another” carries a lot. I find myself thinking past the appointment and into the recovery. What would it ask of my body? What would my days look like? How much more would I have to work through?
I have to slow myself down there. Those are fears and questions. They are not answers I have been given.
But knowing that doesn’t make the fear disappear.
There are questions about my back, too, and a concern about my tongue that has been on my mind. I’m trying to understand several things at once. Each one matters to me, and sometimes I don’t know which one to put into words first.
A report can put something into medical language, but I still have to sit with how it feels to read it. I’m the one living in this body. I bring everything I’ve already been through to those words, even when I wish I could read them calmly and wait for the next conversation.
I want to understand what is happening. I want to know what deserves attention, what my options might be, and what questions I need to bring with me. I also want to be able to admit that I’m frightened while I figure those things out.
Today, I don’t have a tidy ending for that. I haven’t suddenly become peaceful about all of it just because I can write it down.
But writing gives me somewhere to begin.
I can take one concern at a time. I can write down what I don’t understand instead of expecting myself to remember everything. I can leave room for answers I don’t have yet.
And I can be a little gentler with the woman reading those reports. She has already been through a lot. It makes sense that she needs a minute.
So this morning, I’m giving myself that minute. Then I’ll come back to the next question.
