Being Brave

Okay, so I can admit I am getting more and more nervous . . . but I know that I have to keep going, in order to hopefully get some answers.

Maybe nervous is not the word . . . yep, I think fear has fully crept into my mental house, and is plunking her suitcase down. She is expecting to move in. I may have to let her.

Tired of being Ms. Tough Cookie all the time, and with the vivid memory of the last time I had something even close to this done to my body . . . I am trying my best to cope with the fact that, um, tomorrow is going to probably hurt. And what I have to undergo the following week will be, in the doctor's words, feel like "excruciating hell." Well, I appreciate that he isn't bullshitting me! There's nothing I hate more than being surprised, so I value that he played it straight with me.

So tonight I am taking my frequent advice to others, and doing some "channeling" of others, in the hopes that I can steal a bit of their strength to get me through Part I, tomorrow. With this in mind, I am sleeping in my favorite old Marines t-shirt that my Dad brought me home from one of his reunions. I am going to think about people who are REALLY tough, like Soldiers, Sailors, Airmen, Marines, and Cops, and try to put myself into some "zone" if you will -- with the hopes of pulling myself through to the other side of Part I tomorrow.

But who knows, it may just boil down to remembering the time, only a few months ago, when my Dad said that the thing that marked his children, three very, very different children . . . was that each was strong. Maybe that's enough.