Conversations with Creator and creation; the night before surgery

Many of us don't have the bodies we were born with. They get altered some time while growing up into them. Things break, get fixed imperfectly, cut and stitched, scarred. It happens.

Tonight I am saying goodbye to the biggest scar I have ever known on my body... Gapey. It is about the size of a child's violin, close to that shape, too. It's a skin graft with a huge hole behind it with a mesh and clips, and it looks awful...always has. I'm not a belly dancer, so I didn't care how it looked when it meant that I was alive. I'm not doing this surgery for the looks, though, but that will be a nice perk. We pray.

While I was home and packing, I, quite on purpose, didn't bring the cortisone cream that I use on it because it is constantly itching. Just a little tube of cream, insignificant for luggage matters, but significant for me to leave it home. (It itched like crazy over Shabbat, though, too bad I didn't have it...). It was symbolic for me to leave it home. Part of beginning to say goodbye to Gapey.

Tonight, after my pre-surgical shower, was the last time I'll have to Q-tip dry the random, thoughtless folds in the graft. That was also significant for me.

More significant though is that tomorrow morning my life will change. We think we know approximately how it'll change, but we don't really know. We hope I'll have less pain overall (after x amount of months of recovery) with the clips and mesh gone. That is the major reason for this surgery. And, with the graft gone, my inner organs and femoral artery will be more protected with real muscle, skin, and good blood flow over the whole region. It feels like I am going to wake up to a miracle.

I am not terrified. I have complete and total faith that this is the right surgeon at the right time. I have fear, but that is normal. I'm very scared, actually, noticeably shaking a little on the phone with the surgeon today. I have a lump in my throat as I write this...yes, a healthy dose of fear. Even regarding G-d, we learn that we are to have complete faith in Him, but also a proper dose of fear. That's where I'm at with this surgery in... in... nine hours from now.

Hashem, I know you have my back. Please spread your light and wisdom to the surgeons who will have my front tomorrow. Make the whole operating room filled with your healing light. Inspire and guide my surgeon(s; there are a few back-ups if needed). Keep me safe, My Lord. I love and serve you with all my heart and soul every day, every waking hour. I will always continue to do so.

Please also spread your divine light into my children at this difficult hour, they are also scared and worried. And while you're at it with my family, please instill in my beloved husband health, strength, and inspiration during these difficult hours while he waits for me in the waiting room. His job is not easy, please continue to keep him in your light and power, mentally and physically.

I am ready.

I am not ready.

I forgot to say goodbye....
Goodbye my Gapey. We've had a tumultuous relationship over these past 12 years. I can't believe this is it, we won't ever see each other again. You arrived in my life on Jerusalem day, May 2007, and you are being dismantled on June 24^th, 2019, twelve years later. It's unbelievable. I loved you, I hated you. People stared at you, you are a creepy sight. I love that you saved my life, and I will always love you for that. (I'm crying). I'll love your sacred space after tomorrow, I promise. I'll take care of it always. You will remain in my heart, and I am OK with letting you go. We are changing, morphing into something new that only I will feel. Goodbye Gapey. Thank you for your proud service.

Here we go... chapter 12.

Yours, Sarah Rachel bat Tova