Consistency with this blog hasn’t been great – but in my defense, there’s been a bit going on. And I can’t see that consistency improving in the immediate future… but we’ll see.
Putting that surgery countdown up was confronting. There’s something about seeing an actual number that makes everything feel very real, very quickly.
The problem with being a nurse is that you know just enough to be dangerous to yourself. You understand the risks, the complications, the “what ifs”… but you don’t always have the comfort of certainty. It’s a strange place to be – somewhere between knowledge and not quite knowing.
I’m very aware that I’m high risk for surgery, and if I’m honest, I’ve been quite angry at myself for that. But there’s no value in staying there. All I can do now is focus on what I can control and do everything possible to support a good recovery.
The timing has been an interesting journey in itself. My surgery was originally booked for May 18, then moved to June 3 – which, at the time, felt like a gift. More time to think, to process, to get organised, and to feel ready.
And then it moved again – forward to May 20.
My brain hasn’t quite caught up with that yet.
I had a lovely, well thought out list of everything I wanted to do beforehand. Some of it is done, some of it isn’t, and I’ve had to accept that prioritising is part of this process too.
It’s interesting where your mind goes at times like this. The things that suddenly feel important aren’t always what you would expect.
One of mine has been finishing a word doc/book I started some time ago, titled “Gone – but still telling you what to do!” – a title my boys appreciated.
It’s a collection of everything: health information, finances, practical details, letters, wishes… all the things you don’t think about until you have to. I understood the importance of it before after having lived through John’s passing, but it moved much higher up the priority list.
There’s a fine line between being prepared and not wanting to face it at all.
I have had enduring guardianship and power of attorney in place, as appropriate, for years, but I’ve now also completed a formal Advance Care Directive. The boys already know my wishes – but sometimes it’s about making things easier, not just for yourself, but for the people you love.
Reading this back, it all sounds a bit morbid.
The reality is – I fully expect to come through surgery, feel pretty awful for a while, frustrate everyone (including myself) because I can’t do what I normally do… and then gradually get strong again.
And travel.
In fact, I may have just booked another cruise for March next year – optimistically assuming the compression sleeve will be gone by then – along with the month long cruise already planned from Vancouver to Sydney via Hawaii in October.
Because if there’s one thing this has done, it’s reminded me – quite clearly – not to keep putting things off. And for me – a major procrastinator – that has been quite a lesson!
Hearing that ‘C’ word related to yourself, even in its early stages, has a way of sharpening your perspective.
So I’ve been finishing things. John’s scrapbook album, Mum’s, mine, our travel books—and now I am organising the boys’. There’s something about completing them that feels important, like closing chapters properly.
And, if I’m honest, scrap booking has also been my escape. It keeps my hands busy and my mind quiet, which is sometimes exactly what I need.
This blog was always meant to be about my journey – travel, retirement, and whatever else life decides to bring along. It seems that, for now, this is where the journey begins.
When I retired, I expected change – but I didn’t expect the wave of kindness and friendship that followed. The messages, the support, the people who have reached out and kept in touch – it has meant more than I can say.
It’s also made me aware of the quieter spaces – those I thought would stay connected who haven’t. And that’s okay. Life moves on for all of us, and I haven’t exactly been reaching out either.
And to my friends overseas, who I haven’t kept in touch with as well as I should have… I will do better. And we will meet again, in about 18 months.
Until next time – enjoy your story, wherever it takes you.
And don’t forget to tell the people you love that you do.
Journeys of Me 