Dear Mrsatroxi,

Some of us will be having a nice long weekend, and I hope those of you enjoy it.

I’m hoping to get to sleep in. (Exciting!)

Peace and comfort to all you fine folks.

“So, have you read any books, or just words?”

I still haven’t figured out if that was really deep, or plain stupid.

Just a wee post to tell you everything with atroxi went fine. He’s perfectly fine, calm and happy, even.

I, however, am another matter. My husband isn’t going to be happy with me for posting this, but I need to get my disappointment in myself out of my system.

If you had just had surgery on some delicate bits of your anatomy, wouldn’t you want someone there with you who was calm, supportive and collected? I know I would.

Instead, my poor dear husband got a nervous wreck of a wife who had the very first panic attack of her life while attempting to drive him home from the surgery center.

I thought I would be fine. I thought I would be supportive and calm. I did not expect to be a sobbing mass of mush. I didn’t expect to end up laying on my face on the side of the road convinced I was dying.

I effectively turned something that should have all about him into something all about me.

Angry, weepy, disgusted and disappointed. That’s what I am.

Of course he was calm. He was gentle and wonderful, just like always. Even bleeding and drugged out. He stroked my hair and told me I would be fine and then drove us home. He also forbade me to be angry at myself.

I’ll try and do better next time.