I use my nails more than I thought. It's been a weekend of jimmying keys onto key fobs and the like, which aren't great activities for maintaining a pale pink manicure. But I did OK. I still picked at the cuticles, but the goal was to stop biting the actual nails. And I did pretty good. Really good.
Today I got a call from the Boob Doctor, who let me know that there was an OR opening on Thursday. I am tired of thinking of this stupid papilloma in my boob, but keep going back and forth about whether I should get it out. Should I leave it alone (it's not bothering me, nor is it causing other symptoms) or should I get it out while it's still nothing?
I decided to go for the surgery. Pretty much everyone thinks I should get it removed, except my homeopath and well, me -- some of the time. The rest of the time I just want it out, so I can stop thinking about it.
The call came at the end of the day and threw me into a tizzy. Should I do it? I just had two days off last week? Can I afford more time off work without screwing over my team? I have out of town friends coming into Toronto this weekend. Wouldn't I rather put it off and party? And what do you mean I have to spend a week to two weeks at home in bed recovering?
I am not prepared. But the truth is, I will never be prepared. I'll just keep running away and hoping the problem will go away. Also, I'd rather just keep having fun and not having to deal with it. There's always going to be some event I want to be present for. There's always going to be work to deal with. There's always going to be some fear I create to avoid the task at hand. (I am so good at that, I could win the Olympic competition of that... THAT needs a name... I can't be Olympic Avoid the Task at Hander... or can I?)
Anyway, funny how I wish to put life before health. I have been happier lately, finding my way bit by bit. I am enjoying living. But life keeps throwing me curveballs, so clearly I'm missing my great lesson (more on those curveballs soon).
So all this stressing about the surgery and my un-preparedness all evening. I was at parent council tonight and I just started to pick. Pick pick pick. I made a mess on the floor with my nail polish shrapnel. I know why I did it. I'd gone over to the dark side.
In fact I'm not sure I'm completely conscious, in the moment, right now. But I'm writing here in an attempt to clear some of the fog and digest it all.
A woman whose business we wrote about on SweetMama died last week. She had pneumonia, but (and I shouldn't surmise things about strangers from Facebook posts), from one of the last things she wrote on a friend's wall, I'm guessing that she was putting off investigating her health issue because she was busy LIVING too.
Time, time, time. We're obsessed with getting it, saving it, spending it -- much like money. And the hilarious thing is that it's a human construct. A tree or a dog doesn't know what time it is. There's no such thing as time. We don't have it. Any of us. All we have is right now.
So why am I freaking out? Because, like you, I'm trying to grab hold of something that doesn't exist. Time. Maybe if I let it go, my need to try to control time, I'll be OK. I don't know. I was hoping this post would have some sort of positive conclusion, but I'm not there yet. Any insights you might have are appreciated.
Oh, but hey, I didn't bite my effing nails in all this. I may have put them in my mouth, but they are still not bitten. It's something.