In which it's Story Day, and I am trying to be a bit brave(r)

First off, Happy Story Day!

Y'all can celebrate the candy-flower thing if you want, but at Haiku Farm
we celebrate Story Day on February 14th.
Here's WHY.

In more current news, I stacked up all my courage and scheduled my surgery: unless things change dramatically in the next two weeks (very unlikely), I'll head in for total hip replacement on March 3rd.  Wishes for good luck and speedy recovery are gratefully accepted in the comment box below!

But here's the thing about being afraid and being brave and most of all here's the thing about giving advice:  if you give it, you gotta be willing to take it.  So, when I posted some advice to Funder, who is nervous about entering the 20 Mule Team ride, it occurs to me that I should probably apply my advice to my own situation.  Turnabout sucks, by the way.

So, here's what I told Funder, with introspective comments inserted in italics:

Here's the thing about fear: it really IS the mind-killer and the little death. (and if you don't recognize that quote, you need to shoot me and put me out of my misery at once). Fear absolutely can stop you in your tracks and make you run backwards and go home and sell your rig and take up knitting instead BUT YOU AREN'T GOING TO LET THAT HAPPEN.

I expect Funder to get the mind-killer reference, but if other readers  don't, run-don't-walk to you local public library or bookstore and get a copy of Dune by Frank Herbert.  Then, come back here and we can talk more.

Here's what you will do instead. Pay attention. There will be a test. You can write these down (recommended) or not.

* Make a list of things that have gone wrong in the past, and how you didn't die of them. Maybe you didn't conquer them all, but they didn't kill you. If you are unsatisfied with your original response, make up a new one--better yet, make up three good responses for every one you didn't like.

The thing about Funder's situation is that she has done endurance for some years now.  She's got a good handle on what can and usually does go wrong.  

My situation is different:  I've never been hospitalized.  I still have my wisdom teeth and my tonsils.  Total sedation is a new and frightening thing to me.  

So...I gotta cope with the fear by throwing information at it.  Percentage of people who enjoy hospitalization:  very small number.  Percentage of people who have routine hip replacement surgery in modern hospitals and return to full mobility including endurance riding: much larger number.   

Okay.  Moving on.

* Make a list of things that are *likely* to go wrong at 20 Mule Team. Be very complete with this list--it should be a long one. Not everything on this list will actually go wrong, but some of the stuff on the list will. With each thing, list some responses you might have. Include the bad responses as well as the good ones, so you'll recognize them if you see them. When you're satisfied that you've found good responses to every bad situation that is likely to happen, cross off your bad responses.

Again, my situation is different because I've never done anything like this before.  

That said, I can predict some stuff that might go wrong:  

*   I will try to do too-much/too soon.  That's fairly likely.  

*  I will neglect to take my pain meds and that will bite me.  Also fairly likely.  

*   I will go stir crazy, stuck in my house away from my friends and the trails and my horse.  Actually not quite as likely, since the Usual Suspects have promised to help me through the process...and the Dragon lives in the backyard.  There's another coping strategy in the wings, but I don't want to mention it quite yet (details soon, I promise).  

I'm also stacking up books, movies (still hunting for Season 4 of Downton on DVD--anyone?  And the final season of Matt Smith as the Doctor--on DVD?)  

And of course, I do have a book or two that I can write while I'm not-very-mobile.

The takeaway is that I'm going to need to trust the authority of Jim and my friends to help me to avoid doing stupid stuff.  

I'm getting much better at not doing stupid stuff, but the Bad Idea Fairy knows my name, and she's not afraid to use it.  Sigh.

* Make a list of things that MIGHT go wrong but probably won't. Go wild with this. Include things like a major earthquake, terrorist attacks in ridecamp, your crew getting abducted by aliens, your riding partner getting bucked off and eaten by his starving horse, and the long-awaited coming of the zombie apocalypse. Again, think through your possible responses to each, and give serious brain-time to all of them, good and bad. Then, cross off the bad ideas and circle the good ones.

Most of the unlikely stuff stems from medical mistakes that are beyond my control--it's possible that Daleks will take over the hospital during my surgery.

Granted, it's unlikely, but more importantly: there's nothing I can do about it.  

It's possible that Jim will accidentally drink a love potion and fall in love with the anesthesiologist while I'm still out cold.  But since the Suspects will be on-hand to dispense a remedy, I'll just have to trust that he will still be there when I wake up.

Now (this is the test): rehearse these lists. In your brilliant, creative mind, you need to practice making all the good choices you put on those lists. Mentally rehearse them while brushing your teeth, walking the dog, and doing anything else that you would usually do with your ear buds in. Visualize yourself hunting for a lost boot on the darkest part of the trail using the flashlight you remembered to bring, see yourself sucking down applesauce (or whatever) at a vetcheck when you would rather be puking in the sanican. Do this at least twice each day leading up to the ride (three times daily is better, more than that is obsessing).

So here's what I need to mentally rehearse before heading out to the hospital:

*  The surgery is so boring and routine, the doc will mispronounce my name after it.

*  Jim and the Usual Suspects will meet me in the Recovery Room wearing prom dresses and wings, and singing old Pete Seeger songs with the staff.

*  The hospital staff won't try to make me eat jello--not the regular kind and not the super-poisonous kind made with Splenda.

*  My recovery will be swift, my pain will be controlled and then outgrown, and my brain will by super-stimulated by the meds and I will finish edits on the newest book before I have to go back to work.

*  My Dragon will miss me, or at least notice when I show back up again.

*  I will be back in the saddle after a sufficiently sane period of recovery, and I will be released to do whatever damn-fool thing enters my head after the 6-month mark.
Okay?

Okay.

You got this.

I got this.

Now, if I can just take my own advice.  My goal is waiting for me:

Photo c.2007.  She has not gotten any shorter, and I haven't gotten any taller.

...and she is very, very tall.