My parents will tell you that I was a very serious child. I don’t know if that has to do with having a brother who was so sick as a baby or being the oldest of four. Maybe it’s just who I am. I mean, some of my friends call me “grandma”. I worry. A lot.
I haven’t been in a good head space for the last few days.
My insurance company still has the surgery authorization listed as “pended”. This means that if not approved, I cannot have surgery on Saturday. Which means I have been eating / drinking nothing but protein shakes for two weeks for NOTHING and would have to start all over again. I have been emailing back and forth with the surgical coordinator and today I attempted to call the insurance company myself. Six or seven calls later, I still don’t have any answers. I totally understand the process and needing to dot your “i”s and cross your “t”s… but this has caused lot of unnecessary stress. I am morbidly obese. It’s not like I am on the cusp of eligibility here. What the heck is the hold up?
I’m also freaking out a little (okay, a LOT) about having surgery and going under general anesthesia. This stems from the whole spleen-nicking event a few years ago. If I think rationally about it, I will be in a world class hospital with a world class surgeon. The people who will be taking care of me are experts in their field. But it’s still scary as hell to have someone operate on you. It’s scary to walk into a room and have them strap you to a table, inject you with anesthesia and fade to sleep. It’s especially terrifying when you know that they are operating on a vital organ and there are other muy importante organs right next to it.
The last item on the Meghan worry agenda has nothing to do with sleeve surgery, but it’s been weighing heavily on my mind. The shooting in Pittsburgh…. None of the mass shootings that have happened are remotely okay but this one felt personal. My college roommate Shaina is from Squirrel Hill. We used to do this thing where she’d come home with me for Easter and I’d go home with her for Rosh Hashanah and Passover. Squirrel Hill is a really close knit community but Shaina’s friends and family welcomed me in with open arms. Last year, Pat and I attended Shaina’s wedding, five minutes down the road from Tree of Life. When I read the headline on Saturday, I felt sick with dread. It’s crazy to me that the same group of people who took a very homesick Irish/Italian Catholic college kid into their fold could be targeted by a crazy bigoted mad man.
Maybe I just need a good cry. Maybe I need to not care as much. Maybe I need to be less of a control freak. Who knows but I need to figure out a way to get my shit together so that I don’t go into full on meltdown mode.