Well, it's Thursday and my husband's surgery is tomorrow. Just a routine hernia repair and he'll be out of commission for a week or so. I'm his "ride" to the hospital and back and I'll be doing the errands (and everything else) for the next week. I wouldn't be in such a panic, except that I don't drive much any more (doctor's orders) and we'll be leaving the hospital right about rush hour. My head aches. I don't go out to stores much – I would rather not and my husband likes to get out and about, so he usually does the shopping and errands. I have chores to do today and my sister to feed at the nursing home tonight. I have to find something to wear, there is the ironing to do and the long, ritualistic shower to take.
It's cloudy and dreary out today and we're supposed to have showers this evening. It will be cold and damp in the morning when we have to leave. I wonder what to wear. I'm always searching for the right thing to wear when I go someplace – something inconspicuous; something that doesn't make me look as dumb as I feel. I feel like people stare at me and think what a dumb person I am. I have to find something to wear and iron it and hang it up for tomorrow so I can have that worry off my mind.
What if something goes wrong tomorrow? I love Phillip and don't want to lose him. I know it's just a simple procedure, but there's always the chance… He's not as young as he used to be and not in as good of shape.
The clock keeps ticking and I feel the tightness closing in on my chest. I have to get busy with my work or I won't be ready in time to go feed my sister. Things are taking on a surreal quality and I wonder this time if I'm going to manage through this ordeal, like I have always done before. Maybe this is going to be the time I can't handle it. Maybe I'll have an accident in the car and hurt someone. Maybe, maybe, maybe… I can't help all the "maybes" that keep going around and around in my head. If I can get started, perhaps that feeling will subside a little. If I can just find something to wear and get it ready . . .