As I walk the track on an early Sunday morning while my son has a soccer practice I consider the decision I have to make and wonder why I have to make it.
Surgery is never easy or anticipated unless it is life saving, but what happens when you have too much time to think, when you don’t have to have it but there are certainly benefits to it..

I haven’t never felt betrayed by my body, that even sounds strange when I read it back.  A 52 year old woman, I lived a clean life, never smoked, not drugs, (in my younger years probably from fear), social drinking, lots of exercise and healthy eating.  I remember my grandfather working out before Jack La Lane made it fashionable.
He would say, when the pressure gets too much, exercise is the answer.  The body has the answers .  I have lived by that, of course there were and are transgressions, but for the most part when other people might reach for a tranquilizer, I went to the gym.  It has never failed me.
It is part of who I am .

So as I walk the track, the decision remains and the fact the the exercise itself can make the medical problem worse, makes me feel like my own body has betrayed me. Don’t misunderstand, I cannot die from this, that is something different that I have experienced as well.  I had thyroid cancer and the surgery was imminent .
I had the luxury of not thinking about it, doesn’t that sound strange?  But what happens when it won’t kill you, just hinder you, what is the bigger risk, living with it or surgery?

Of course we want to get older, the alternative is not one I like to think about, but with age comes experience and fears become very real when you are aware of the dangers, you learn that even the best can make a mistake, that no scenario is perfect and accountability is questionable.