What happens next?

As the hours tick down towards my procedure, it shouldn't come as a huge shock that I can’t sleep. To be honest, I’m almost always awake at this time but today seems different. I’m tired which is a change but I don’t really want to go lay in bed. While I’m out of bed, I can continue to do all the random things that I can come up with to keep my mind occupied. Once I’m in bed and trying to sleep, that’s when I my thoughts get the upper hand. Like I said though, today is different. When I turned off my xbox (with my voice because I'm cool like that), I unhooked it and packed it up. I also packed my phone charger and some clothes because I know I won't be home for a few days. That sounds more ominous than it is, I should only be at the hospital for a few hours but I'll be staying at my parents for at least a day or two to make sure I'm alright.

A lot of people that I've spoken to in the last couple days have asked me the same question, “Am I scared?”. It seems like a strange question to me. I don’t have to do anything tomorrow, what do I have to be scared of? I wonder more if people are asking my doctor that same question considering how rarely the procedure has been done (this will be #2), but I probably don’t want to know the answer. To be honest I’m really not worried, concerned, or scared shitless (their words, not mine. I wonder what they were imagining that I would have me that scared) simply because I’m going to do the same thing I've done every time I've gone into the hospital. I’m going to do walk in, smile and greet the nurses, technicians, coordinators, and doctors who I have come to know, get changed into 2 hospital gowns (one front ways and one back like I'm a cooler version of kriss kross). After that, I'll probably sign some papers and have stuff explained. Next it’ll be 2 hospital bracelets to put on (they will inevitably scratch my face at some point when I forget I have them on), have my temperature taken, have an IV inserted while they make some sort of joke related to my veins. It's at that point that I’ll kick off my shoes, lay face down on the table that is not made to have people face down on and I’ve done my part. It’s everyone else’s show after that; someone will awkwardly put the oxygen tube around my head, they’ll clean the area, talk like I’m not there and eventually I’ll go to sleep. Sometime after that, I’ll wake up, switch beds, and get moved up into the recovery ward. At that point they will reattach the heart monitor, take my temperature again and there will likely be some more pain medication. I'll probably text some people, say yes to juice and cookies, and then take a nap. So no, I’m 100% fine with how things are going to go tomorrow, it’s what comes after tomorrow that has me absolutely terrified.

If the procedure fails, I go back to this. I go back to spending time laying in my bed after I've woken up hours after I should have. Eventually I'll convince myself that I should at least lay on my couch. The sign that will convince me that I should get out of bed is that I’ll already be through half of my phone charge. If things go wrong, I know exactly what my days will be like. I know how to do this, I'm an expert at this. I'll make jokes and people will tell me that I have such a positive attitude. If things go right though, I have no idea what happens. If things go right, the entire world changes from the moment I open my eyes. People tell me that I should be happy and take things one day at a time, that the world will be my oyster (I don't even know if I like oysters). I don’t mean to sound negative but people tell people that their dead loved ones are in a better place and we all know that during that time, those words mean nothing. They’re nice words, they’re appreciated words, but at that very moment, nothing in the world is going to take their mind off of the situation at hand. I know everyone means well when they say things like that to me;in reality, it just adds to my near panicked state. When I try to put it in to words, it comes out something like this:

Imagine having a puzzle that you had spent years putting together. You loved that puzzle. Now imagine that over a period of a few years you stopped adding new pieces and instead you started to lose pieces. Only a few pieces at first but as sure as the sun rises each day, you lost another piece. At first you can still look at the image fondly and know that you made that, that you're proud of everything you put in it and of the image it displays. Except that as time goes on, it’s harder and harder to see that original image. After even longer, you don’t even recognize that image anymore. Even at that low though, you can still imagine what used to be there. As even more time ticks by, you start to see the incomplete picture as the normal image, it's unrecognizable from its former self but it is as it is and that's what you and others are used to seeing now.

Now imagine that one day when you open your eyes, things things are suppose to be different, people look at you differently. Suddenly you’re supposed to go right back to building that puzzle even though you haven’t looked for pieces in years. People will take  long looks at it and ask you what you've added to it lately. It’s understandable, why wouldn't you be putting pieces back in when you’re finally done losing them. The problem is you don’t remember what the puzzle is supposed to look like and you don't even have those lost pieces. Now you have to figure out where you would even find these new pieces because now the ones that you remember don't even look like they would fit anymore. It’s understandable at first; of course you’re going to be rusty. After a while though, it seems kind of strange that you haven’t done anything. Why wouldn't you have done something by that point, nothing is holding you back. Suddenly people can't help but wonder what you're doing if things don't look how they expected them too.

I know it's an easily defeated analogy but it's what came to mind when I tried to put it in to words.

If that makes any sense, then perhaps that will give you a glimpse into what is going through my mind. If it doesn't make any sense, then it wouldn't be the first time someone’s fears didn't make sense to others (Seriously, clowns are not scary. Pennywise and John Wayne Gacy didn't kill nearly enough people to ruin them for everyone).

This guy couldn't even chase you if he wanted to, with shoes like that

                I don’t think people realize just how much I've lost over time. It’s so easy to send well wishes and make hypothetical plans but it’s another thing all together to have to climb out of a hole so deep that sunlight doesn't even look familiar anymore (I live in a semi-basement, I legitimately don’t see direct sunlight). What am I suppose to say to someone when they want to make extravagant plans when on the inside I’m just hoping I can get back to doing things that everyone else takes for granted? If I shoot down plans, I’m being negative but how do you explain to someone that their plans sound downright impossible when all I’m wondering is how long it’s going to take me to relearn how to walk normally again. People ask me where I want to travel and all I can think about is how I want to ask them what it’s like to sleep laying on their back? What’s it’s like to sit normally? Is it true that clothes aren't suppose to hurt when you wear them? What is is like to not be in pain at all times? I'm suppose to stay positive even though I have to make sure I manage the expectations of all those around me so that I don't feel like I'm disappointing them when I'm not able to do the things they thought I should have been able to do. I’m supposed to think of what kind of fun I want to have when I don’t even know what fun feels like anymore. I don't even remember the last time anything has been fun, I've just been going through the motions. Are the things that I used to find fun still fun and it's just the depression that changed me? What if I've just changed and the things that were fun just aren't fun anymore? Do I have to relearn to do what used to be fun only to be disappointed and have to find new things? (I'll talk about his more another time) All those thoughts have me worked up and that's supposed to be fun! What about all the other parts of a normal life, where do I relearn how to wake up every day at the same time to go to work? Where do I go to get used to the very idea of working? Where do I learn to be a functional human being and contribute to society? I don’t even know how to live like a normal person, where am I supposed to relearn that?

                If that wasn't enough, I have this ever present thought weighing me down: What if it was all an excuse? What if all this time I was the reason I never achieved what I could have and only used my back as scapegoat? What if all the things my friends put up with because of my back weren't related at all and it comes through clear that I'm just a shitty person? I know it’s unlikely, improbable, idiotic and all sorts of other synonyms for stupid, but that doesn't make it any less of a possibility in my mind. If it’s not the case, what if I've fallen too far down that hole to see sunlight again (I've seen the ring, I can’t pull off long hair in my face)? What if what’s been done can never truly be undone? What questions should I even be trying to answer first?

                I’m going to go lay in bed now. The longer I write, the more things have degraded into a series of unanswerable questions that simply add to my already seemingly insurmountable hole. I can’t answer them now and I don’t even know if I’ll be able to answer them when I wake up tomorrow. I just know that once I open my eyes and I’m better, I’m going to have to figure out what I am supposed to do next.

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Bonus Fun Fact: It's been pointed out to me that I use humor as a coping mechanism which is quite evident through my use of bracketed jokes in this piece. You can tell how stressed by noticing their frequent use. I'll address this more another time.