Today I’ve felt ick and nauseated. For one thing, it’s Christmas Day and my immediate family doesn’t celebrate, and that’s not fun. It feels like all those weddings I used to work as a single, in-the-closet photographer. Like the whole world’s happy and together, but not me. Whatever, the holidays are complicated for a lot of people. So many memories, so many emotions. Plus, I’m having surgery on my left knee tomorrow to repair my ACL, and that’s got my stomach tied up in knots.

Ugh.

This afternoon I put the knee brace my surgeon’s office gave me in the back seat of my car, Tom Collins. They said I’d wake up in it after surgery. The brace, not my car. I also un-decorated my crutches, which for the last few weeks have been decked out in Christmas tinsel, ever since I was in that tacky holiday variety show at the local theater. Anyway, I put those in the back seat too, as I’ll be needing them again starting–soon. This is part of what’s got me upset. For a week and a half now I’ve been crutches-less and walking on my own. Granted, my walking has been slow and not always pain-free, but at least I’ve felt independent. But starting tomorrow it’s back to square one, hobbling around and asking people to bring me things. I guess it just feels like I’m going backwards.

I realize this isn’t the case. Tomorrow’s surgery is an important step (pun intended) in this whole process and absolutely necessary if I want my “world of movement” to look anything like it did before. But it’s a lot, emotionally. Sure, the surgeon does this every day, but I don’t. I’ll be going under. There will be scars. And whereas the surgeon said the scars wouldn’t be a big deal because I have hairy legs, it’s still a big deal to me to be both cut open and permanently marked.

Also, sometimes I shave my legs.

Now it’s nine at night, and I’ve got to be up at six in the morning. I can only have food and liquids for the next three hours. I still have to shower, pack a small bag, and make sure I have my shit together. Honestly, I don’t imagine I’ll get much sleep. For one thing, I’m not used to going to bed before midnight. More like two in the morning. For another thing, my mind is racing.

I wish I knew how to make it stop.

People do these things every day–have surgery, go through rehab, get through the pain. People walk again. People dance again. So part of me knows it’s possible. And whereas I know I’ll do as I’m told, push through, and probably overachieve (because it’s one of my things), I’m honestly not looking forward to it. You know how sometimes you’re ready for a fight, and sometimes you’re not? Well, I’m not. This isn’t a fight I was looking for or even wanted once it found me. And yet here I am about to step (sort of) into the ring. So I’m taking deep breaths and preparing to do my best.

Here we go.