My mom went into surgery about half an hour ago. Hopefully this surgery will solve issues that were created by a series of surgeries she had a couple of years ago and problems she’s been having ever since. I feel a lot better about this surgery than I have any of the others up until this point. She’s at a better hospital and they did a lot more to prepare her this time.
But I’m still worried.
And there is nothing I can do about it.
It is by choice that I live a fair distance from my family. I love my mom and my brothers very much but there is a lot of self inflicted drama that goes on at home, a lot of pointless infighting and other things that I can’t be bothered with. I am glad to visit but I never fully shake the sense that I just don’t belong there.
Of course, it’s times like these that I wish I was closer to home and could actually BE THERE for my mom. I know I’d be able to do little more if I was actually at the hospital this morning, but in my mind my anxiety would somehow be different it if didn’t have to span so many miles.
Instead, I’ll head into class today and discuss one of my all time favorite books and I’ll keep all my worry bottled up until I can get home and call the hospital to see what’s happening.
Sometimes I wonder if life is lived mostly in waiting . . .