“No amount of anxiety makes any difference to anything that is going to happen,” said Alan Watts from the podium, his closing remarks. He got a standing ovation. I was pissed. I didn’t disagree with him, but I was pissed. I hate having reality thrown up in my face.
My anxiety is often debilitating. That’s why I take meds. Finally, the shrink found something that keeps me upright in the mornings when the demons hit the hardest. I’ve fallen on my knees in a sobbing mass while brushing my teeth with anxiety over stupid shit. I’d have everything in place, lessons done, slides made, if it wasn’t work it was people. It’s not only the present that haunts me.
Now, I’m facing the surgery that killed Mom. The complications inflicted by an idiot doctor who specializes in bariatrics not hiatal hernias, not a real surgeon. One of the reasons I have to travel four hours to have this surgery in the first place is because of her death. We made sure idiots like him couldn’t perform the procedure in this town.
I know the surgeon is not only capable, but excellent. Intellectually, I’m fine. However, I can’t help but remember my mom’s predicament as she started to die. I watched as she faded to death instead of healed. I know my surgeon’s not going to let that happen. I told Mom’s story to her. I’ve been assured and I believe the surgeon.
No amount of anxiety is going to change what happens. Let it go, get on with it, and heal.
Devonne Brown 
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