Tom Petty Was Right

"The waiting is the hardest part

Every day you see one more card

You take it on faith, you take it to the heart

The waiting is the hardest part"

Given the fact I am now 46 going on 13, the passage of time is a tricky thing. I'm not sure how that goes for 40-somethings who act their age but I am noticing that often if I'm down and I can convince myself to just WAIT, the trouble is very apt to lessen or disappear. If I'm up, that time seems to pass quickly as well, and while sometimes I can think, "this is going too fast and I'm not ready for it to end", that feeling is tempered greatly by the positives of the moment.

Then there are times where time just seems to ccccrrrraaaawwwwllll. I'm in such a time right now. And honestly, filling that time, having it pass, is proving difficult. The anticipated date is November 16, 7:30 AM. That's when my orchiectomy is scheduled. This has gone from something I never really considered because of finances and very optional given medications to slow the flow of testosterone, to somewhat I felt I needed after the scare I had back in June, to VERY possible when I actually asked my insurance company and found out its covered, then finally something that felt like it would a longshot to get taken care of this year.

Thenallofasuddentimespedwayup. I saw endocrinologist #1 in August, endocrinologist #2 in early September. #2 I was surprised to get to see #2 (LGBT-focused) so quickly. And surprised I had to do very little convincing to get the surgery I believe is going to help me be healthier. The consult with the urologist was pretty easy too.

And yeah, seemingly out of nowhere I get two quick letters for the surgery as required by the urologist (one from my therapist that says you are in full control of your mental acuities; sorry I had to fool you, Meredith; and the other from endo #2) and WHAM!, I'm presented with surgery dates. It was like getting to choose from 8-9 of your favorite candies. You can have aaaannnnyyyy of these you like. Ugh, normally we get little choice, and then I am able to choose any Monday in November or December.

You'd think choosing a date would be easy. If I could go on my own, it would be. But amazingly, they won't let you drive home after extracting your balls. You gotta have a driver. Who knew!

Long story short, my wife politely bowed out and I kinda figured she would. I can definitely understand her position about this. I think I have it taken care of with my cousin, to whom I once again am very grateful. I got a few questions answered from the scheduling assistant and November 16 it is.

Which brings me to Mr. Petty. I wonder if he had any idea the number of people and situations his song would apply to? As for the surgery, there are two areas I'm battling: the anticipation of executing the logistics in getting the surgery accomplished when I don't have full control, and dealing with the month leading up to that day.

The first of these is like traveling by plane, feels like. The procedure itself I have no worries about, and relatively little concern for the recovery period. It's the GETTING THERE that is killing me. Just like many flights, I have to be there two hours early for an already-early procedure. Making sure I get to the right place, on-time (I have a fairly acute fear of being late, or rather disrupting others because I'm late) while causing the least disruption to the lives of those who are helping me. Once I'm there, I will be fine. Not second-guessing the surgery at all.

If there is any second-guessing, it's the consequences of the surgery. Suddenly, I have this feeling that I wish I could put the genie back in the bottle, because it has accelerated other things, at least potentially, and that has me feeling overwhelmed. I won't go into details here, other than to say my living situation might be changing sooner than I'm ready, and that terrifies me. But it's the path chosen. I've altered more lives than just my own, and I wish that could be avoided. Life is hard. And too much time to think is harder.

For now, I need to start dealing with some of these realities before surgery to be prepared for life after it. That will help pass the time, no doubt. So long as I can get my heart to do what needs to be done, I'll be fine. Sigh. I'm trying.

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