A friend I met several years ago through blogging, a fellow trauma survivor, sent me an email that begins with these words:
“Trauma survivors live in survival mode . . . ”
It’s true, we do. And when hard times come, like they do for everyone, trauma survivors have a tendency to fear the worst.
Yesterday afternoon I got a text from my daughter asking me to pray, because there was a gunman on the Harvard campus and my granddaughter’s husband was there, sheltering in place. I immediately began to pray, and cry, and worry, as I sent texts to everyone I could, asking them to pray. Very soon I got a text from my daughter saying that the man with the gun had been taken into police custody without any shots being fired, hallelujah. I later learned there was a female with a gun who was arrested, as well.
I was so relieved! And yet, I feel like I’m on high alert right now, on the lookout for gun toting nut jobs, despite the fact that I live in New Mexico, more than 2,000 miles from Harvard University.
But it’s not just the short-lived danger my granddaughter’s husband was in, that has me all wide awake in the middle of the night. Six hours from now, my stepdaughter is going to have surgery to remove her thyroid and five growths from her throat. And I keep having to remind myself to breathe.
The odds of something terrible happening during or after the surgery are very low, only about 5%. This surgeon is renowned for his expertise in thyroidectomies. My stepdaughter will be fine. She. Will. Be. FINE!
On February 5, my husband is scheduled to have a surgery. But I don’t need to worry about that right now, February 5 is days away.
Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe . . .