Off Shore

I didn't intend to get back in here on a daily basis. For my own sake and yours probably, too. BUT I somehow gotta get this off my chest and the usual social media outlets I usually frequent just don't seem appropriate to me right now.

It's 5 pm. And I am scared. Scared like hell. I can't help it, no matter what I do or say or think, how much I reason that I don't have to be.
It's actually that simple: in 14 hours I'll be having minor surgery. Nothing fancy, a simple laparoscopy/hysteroscopy under general anaesthesia. (Go and look it up yourself in case you're interested, I am too worn out to go into detail right now.) It's a standard routine surgery and I'll be just fine. I know it. Everyone keeps telling me I will. Hell, I am supposed to go home in the late afternoon unless something unpredictable comes along the way.
Nevertheless I can't shake off that damn fear of... being out of control? I can't even phrase it, an undefined uneasiness that covers me like a blanket, only without the comforting effect. Rather paralyzing.
I am not good with stuff like this. At all. I hate hospitals, but who doesn't?
Sometimes I wonder if my personal preference to spend some time on my own once in a while is the result of being an only child. As much as I love to spend time with friends, family, loved ones - I can't do that 24/7. Being a part-time-hermit comes in quite handy there. So my friend asked me if I'd prefer some company this afternoon, watching Firefly, talking.. whatever comes to our minds. And what do I do? I politely decline, saying I need some time on my own. To think. To brood. That's how I roll from time to time... gotta do things on my own.
Anyway.
I still am grateful.
So come on join me in the water, and we'll swim for home. Sometimes it's hard to remember: I couldn't do this on my own.