I survived another surgery yesterday and statistics show this is quite the norm.
The rather cold operating theater was abuzz with my surgeon, the anesthetist, assisting doctors and nurses. The melody of their conversation was calming but then I looked at that awful trolley loaded with various size "knives" and I felt a little apprehensive...
Oh well I told myself - it's still better than Wednesday! What happened on Wednesday I hear you say? I had to fly from Melbourne to Sydney return. This flight is just over an hour - a hop, skip and a jump. It is one of the busiest (9th busiest route in the world which is quite extraordinary given our little population!) and safest flight paths in the world. The 'normal' passenger gets on the plane, has a quick nap, a light snack and is back on the ground again - easy!
Not for me....I've never liked flying (although I've always liked travelling?!) but since having Cancer I am living proof that fears can be quite irrational (and all consuming). The minute that plane takes off every muscle in my body tenses, I start to sweat and talk frantically to the poor souls seated around me. I try desperately to focus on that thud when the wheels hit the ground safely again.
Some people say it's about control (or lack thereof) but I sure as hell don't want to be flying the thing! I love other people driving and I don't batter an eyelid when I step on a train. So I think "control" is an oversimplification. I think, for me, it's the finality - no amount of airbags can save an airbus. I didn't fight cancer to go down in a plane.
I have no idea how I'm going to get to Hawaii for my birthday next year - a whole lot of Xanax and a beautiful family who I don't want to let down...
Can someone please invent a commercial rocket submarine by next December - please xox
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