This roundabout is dizzying. Every now and then I hop off for a while. But when the time comes to get back on, the memory of previous nausea-inducing rides is strong. The mind hopes “all will be fine” while the stomach churns. Sometimes the fear of being thrown off takes over and panic rises. Today was a sometimes.
The mornings are the worst for me. When the sky is still sleepy my mind wanders to plans for the day ahead. At first a few nervous tears snuck out. Soon breath would not fill my lings. Panic is ugly. The amygdala takes over and the only way through is to talk it down. It will be ok. She will be fine. It will go well. It will be ok; she will be fine; it will go well. All will be ok, she will be fine because it will go well. Breathe.
It is ok. She was super brave…clearly more than me. And it did go well. But, even thirteen years down the track, the ride to get to ok makes me sick. The procedure today was relatively minor. But last time this same ride was too much, too fast and too scary and that is hard to forget. Tomorrow I think we shall share a quiet day.