My daughter talks about her fear of having a hysterectomy in this blog post. But, my friends, fear is far reaching. It finds its way into each of us when someone we love is frightened. Being strong when your child is hurting, trying to keep a brave face when as a mom you see the faces of the hospital staff clearly show their concern. It is a fear that grips your heart as you hold your adult daughter as she cries telling her it will all be okay, wondering who you are trying to convince. It is the concern that drifts into every thought, knowing your daughter-in-law and granddaughter are possibly facing a dangerous hurricane all alone while you sleep in a chair beside your frightened daughter until they take her down for surgery. Fear that can only be released when the storm goes out to sea and the doctor finally comes out and tells you your daughter will be okay. That’s when the tears can come.
I tried to think of a fancy title for this blog but I think the word speaks for itself. Fear. It stands alone with no fluff needed to have an impact. And I’ve had my share of it this year.
I feel the need to remind my readers that from the get go, my doctor wanted me to have a hysterectomy. I was the one that said no. I hid behind being a Mom of a toddler who needed me and a wife who couldn’t shoulder the burden of handling a toddler alone for 6 weeks. I hid behind the fact that I couldn’t take the time off of work. I hid behind the fact that my situation wasn’t “that bad”. The truth is that I was afraid. I was afraid of pain and I was afraid of not waking up after the surgery. That’s my truth and now…
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