The enormity of what I'm about to do hit me this morning.
Everything is in place. D's squadron is waiting for a surgery date from me so we can initiate the Red Cross message, and they're preparing his replacement. His unit there are ready to get him on a flight out. The The insurance company is approving the surgery, and the neurosurgeon is just waiting for the general surgeon to tell him what days he's available. All I have to do is see Dr Striegel next week...
..but what the fuck am I really doing? I'm letting some dude who doesn't really know me slit my belly open, lift my guts out and lay them on the table next to me (that's literally what will happen), then some other dude who doesn't really know me is going to take bits of my spinal process out, shave my hip bone, and then screw and pin and plate me back together. Then the dude who took my guts out puts them back in, staples me up, and sends me on my happy way.
I'm asking some poor guy who never expected this to go to a combat zone to take my husband's place so he can come home and be with me. I'm asking the military to pay for flights and travel expenses, and them I'm asking them to let my husband NOT go to work for a month, I'm asking the Red Cross to act on my behalf for free, I'm asking my kids and my family to basically provide 24 hour nursing care for me....to take over the running of the house and help me on and off the toilet, in and out of the shower, up and out of the car and chair...
...it's a lot of stuff. A lot of organization, a lot of time, a lot of money. I can't help but feel guilty for causing such a fuss.
Why the heck am I doing this again??