As a man, I am supposed to hold in my feelings. I’m not allowed to show emotion. Get over it. Suck it up, right? I am proud to admit that I am scared as fuck right now.
If you follow my blog, then you already know the belly saga. If not, let me reiterate. Nausea, diarrhea, and blood coming out of the wrong holes since October. Emergency room visit. GI doctor. Scheduled procedure. They wanted $1,800 upfront. I rescheduled. I accepted the fact that I need this procedure. Caught up? Good.
On Monday, I finally go in for an endoscopy and colonoscopy. I am getting skewered from both ends. As one of my friends joked, “They are doing the colonoscopy first and then reusing the equipment.”
However, over the last few days, my nerves are racked. It isn’t so much the idea of being put under anesthesia. I am scared shitless about what they might find and disclose to me once I awaken. That thought ruminates in the back of my mind. All of the “what-if’s” spiral around until it hones in on the worst case scenario.
I think now part of the reason why I rescheduled my procedure was not because of the financial aspect. I honestly believe deep down that I am scared of what they might find. I know rationally that it is likely something small or at least not life-threatening. On the other hand, that possibility still exists, especially when the issues persist for four months. Hearing two doctors and my own mother push me in the direction of going through with this procedure.
I am just going to put it out there. I am nervous. I am anxious. I am scared. Say what you will. I am more of a man for saying it.
-The Caring Counselor