Anger

It is really easy to write about all of the things I am grateful for on this journey. It isn't as easy to write about how pissed off I am about this whole mess. When I am angry, this is a mess not a journey.

Bear with me, I'm going to write about the anger. I'm angry that I had 2 major surgeries within 15 months. That is a lot for a body to go through, and not just any body - my body. My body isn't perfect, but it sure as hell didn't deserve this! After the surgery last year, I really never wanted to have surgery again, thank you very much.

I am angry that there isn't an explanation for the aneurysm. No idea, no clue... just, surprise, you have this thing, and it needs to be fixed and oh by the way it could rupture or dissect and kill you. I'm angry that no one said that out loud - that this could kill me. Maybe it wouldn't have, but an aneurysm on the aorta seems like something that could potentially be fatal, I'm just saying.

I'm angry about the disruption. I was only 3 months into a new job. My department has lots of work to do... and here I am, robed and slippered, not able to help for awhile. Of course, they understand. Of course, the surgery was more important than the work. I can still feel angry about it.

I am angry about the fear - fear of doing something to cause my sternum to misalign, crack, or do something else besides heal neatly and cleanly. There will be the fear of returning to work, getting on the bus, opening the front door - and I'm pissed I can't open my own front door. I'm angry that unless someone comes over, I'm stuck. I can't get out for a walk or even check the mail. (Anyone want to start scheduling walks with me?)

It is okay for my heart to walk along muttering to itself about how unfair it all is, how scary it all is... that is part of the reality of this.  I believe that I'd do myself much more harm if I didn't occasionally stomp a foot and mutter  "oh for fuck's sake. It is how I get on with it.