Yesterday, I had a long talk with my good friend, the brilliant novelist Katrina Kittle. (That’s not a humblebrag, it’s just a straight-up brag. I call her my sister, and isn’t it okay to brag on family? Besides, I’m adapting her novel The Kindness of Strangers, and you HAVE to brag on your projects in Hollywood or no one notices [Yes, that was a humblebrag]). Katrina has been through some tough health stuff in her life, and I needed to hear her advice because she is as strong, healthy, and vibrant a person as there is on any snow-white plot of Midwestern earth right now.
I told her I’ve been waiting for peace and calm to descend, but it hasn’t. I said that I feel guilty for worrying and making such a big deal out of this thing when gillions of other people face far, far worse challenges each day without the support and resources I’m very fortunate to have. The logical part of my brain (the side without the hole in it) realizes that this is the right thing to do, but the other side has a lot of doubts, and is being a brooding, yellow-bellied, fraidy-cat, coward. Katrina made brave choices in her life and it has worked out well. She validated my fears and let me off the hook for my guilt. She listened and supported, as have all of my wonderful friends and family. But I still felt torn. Unresolved.
Then, just after we got off the phone, on one of the facebook support groups I follow, another brave woman made her first new post, three-days post-op. She was smiling. She was happy. The pain was diminishing, the dizziness was tolerable, and she was POSITIVE it had worked. Looking at her shaved head and big bright smile, knowing she was glad she’d done this, that she was happy she’d taken a risk to improve the quality of her life, I finally felt it descend…Confidence. Peace. Resolve.
All I really needed was an image. A picture of success. That’s what it took. If anyone else who is reading wants to send in a picture of SCD-surgery success, I’ll be happy to post itI