Thanks to everyone who commented on my last, now removed, post. I appreciated every word of it.
It's just that, having it there, staring at me every time I opened up my page did nothing to make me feel better. Usually writing something here is my release. In this case, reading my own words made me more anxious. And, of all the things I do need right now, more anxiety is not one of them.
So I removed it, hoping to make like an ostrich and bury my head in the sand. I want to just ignore it and live in blissful ignorance.
Because I have bigger things on my plate than something that may or may not happen years from now. Shoot, something could happen between now and then that would all but eliminate the question anyway. I don't know. None of us do. I should enjoy the good that I have now, rather than constantly focusing on an uncertain fifteen years down the road.
I went to my pre-admission testing today, where they drew vial after vial of blood, sat me down, and explained all of the restrictions I have to abide by for the day before surgery. They told me someone will have to drive me home, as I'll be completely unconscious for the procedure. And, of course, that person will be Billy, who, when I originally told him the date of my surgery and asked if he could be there, replied that of course he would be there, and wouldn't miss it for anything. He made it sound like it was something fun and exciting that he'd be attending, and although that's certainly not the case, I know what he meant: I need him, and he'll be there.
Hopefully, after this next round of surgery (which I kind of feel guilty even referring to as "surgery," as there will be no external incisions on my person) everything with me and my lady parts should be back to normal. THEN I can go back to worrying myself sick over things that I have no control over, no matter how much I analyze, focus, or dissect. Then I'll know I'm back to normal.