Alone

This time last year, I was alone in a hotel room, only hours away from surgery. Normally, I'm pretty good when I'm alone. As someone who is not but was basically raised as an only child, I'm quite capable of entertaining myself. However, given that I was about to go under the laser, I couldn't get my mind to quiet down. I couldn't keep my thoughts in their proper order.

I existed in a quiet dread, only speaking if someone would call me. This dread was punctuated by the uncomfortable level of warmth in  the room. The thermostat was fixed and locked and set several degrees above where I would have been comfortable. The bed was hard and lacked proper pillows. I ended up dragging the cushions off the loveseat in order to prop myself up to my liking.

The bath tub was really small. I sat on the side and dumped water over me using the container intended for ice. I remember scrubbing myself with the antibacterial soap over and over again. I wanted to be as clean as possible for the surgery. I washed my hair three times because I knew it would be several days before I could wash it again. The water was warm and towels were fluffy enough.

I couldn't really eat much after 2, but my uncle had bought me some peach yogurt from the convenience store and it was really good. I keep intending to get more on my follow-up visits to Tulsa, but I always forget. I drank as much water as I could until midnight. I wanted to be as hydrated as possible so that they didn't have trouble starting my IVs. The last time I'd had surgery, they'd had to do a pic line and I didn't want a repeat of that.

I couldn't decide if it was better for time to pass quickly or slowly. Both were problematic. In the end, it somehow felt like it was doing both.

A year ago tonight could have very possibly been the last night of my life. I'm glad it wasn't.