When I was a teenager, danger and adventure were exciting words to me. I didn’t worry about deaths and accidents because I was too wrapped up in my bubble of invincibility.
Sigh, what a naive teenager I was then.
Now that I am a parent and responsible for someone else’s welfare, I exchanged invincibility with worry over my own mortality.
It was a deal I made and accepted the day I gave birth to Bea, my precious daughter.
Becoming a parent was a package deal that had “No return, no exchange” indelibly written all over it.
Being a parent is a package for life.
Tomorrow I will undergo a minor surgery at a public hospital here in New Zealand.
Everyone in the public health system whom I’ve met and who briefed me with what I am about to undergo assured me the procedure is simple. It’s routine even.
All my friends and family members assured me and told me stories of their and others’ similar experiences. They said “it’ll be over before you know it.”
While these assuring words comfort me to no end, I can’t help but be apprehensive.
I can’t help but be nervous.
I am nervous because it’s been so long since I’ve had any surgery. The last time was 13 years ago when I had an emergency CS. I wasn’t even crook then. I just happened to be pregnant and had to get a baby out of me.
I am nervous because it’s my first time to be admitted for a procedure like this here in New Zealand.
I am nervous because I don’t like ‘going under’ – general anaesthesia is not something I’m looking forward to.
I am nervous because I know surgeries no matter how ’simple’ and ‘routine’ can inevitably lead to complications, to something more serious caused by human error.
Lastly and most importantly, I am nervous because undergoing surgeries no matter how simple or routine makes me face my own mortality.
I am afraid to die.
I’m not afraid to face death for my own sake. When I’m dead, then how am I to know about it?
I’m afraid to die because of the one precious person whose young life and welfare I am still responsible for.
I’m afraid to die because I don’t want to leave my child without a mother to guide her and look out for her.
While I know that her other parent, her Dad, my lovely Hubby will look after Bea along with the rest of our family members and friends who love Bea deeply, I still worry.
Worrying is in my job description as a mother so shoot me for being melodramatic about a simple, routine procedure.
If you happen to read this post, please say a prayer for me if you believe in God.
If you don’t believe in God, please send positive thoughts and vibes my way and keep your fingers and toes crossed for me.
To staff members of the Canterbury District Health Board (CDHB), if you happen to read this, please do everything to keep me alive (and healthy! I don’t really want to be a cabbage!). It’ll be good for your stats! 
No pressure though!
To you Bea, my darling daughter, when you get to read this post (as I am sure you would in the next day or so), please know that Mummy loves you. Very much.
Even if I don’t say it every hour of the day, I do love you more than you’ll ever know.
Wherever I am, whatever I am doing, I think about you every minute, every second of the day.
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thanks everyone for the kind words
Hello Sexy Mama! Been thinking about how you are recuperating…Reading this made me cry…I hope everything’s alright now….My prayers, hugs and kisses to you.
Hi Christine! Am sending you my prayers! I am crossing my fingers and my toes and my eyes too
you won’t go through this alone! Our thoughts are with you! God bless you!
This part, made me cry: To you Bea, my darling daughter, when you get to read this post (as I am sure you would in the next day or so), please know that Mummy loves you. Very much.
Even if I don’t say it every hour of the day, I do love you more than you’ll ever know.
Wherever I am, whatever I am doing, I think about you every minute, every second of the day.
I hope you’re ok!!!!!!!!!!!! Thinking of you…
I too think about all the things you said. Mothers are born worryiers. I am sending you all my thoughts, etc and all of my fingers and toes are crossed for you. Waiting like the rest to hear your blog of your recovery. Kia Kaha Christine.
Christine, sending you my thoughts and prayers my dear. I wish I can declutter your mind with all of that anxiety. One thing though I could tell you, coming out of a general anesthesia was one of the best feeling I ever had, felt so fully rested
.
Take care and be well – I am looking forward to your post-surgery anecdotes. Wishing you a speedy recovery
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I, too, like you am afraid to die because I’m a mom (and my daughter is just 6). That’s the thought I have in my mind when I drive, every single day!
It’s normal for you to worry. Any surgery is scary or at least I am scared of it. But if the medical professionals and your people who have gone through it said it’s gonna be ok, then it’s gonna be ok. Think strongly that everything will be fine and it will be.
Sending you prayers and looking forward to your after-surgery blog post.
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