Tomorrow I’m having surgery. Nothing serious. The surgeon will repair the hernia I’ve had in my groin for more than twenty years. It’s never bothered me, so the advice has always been not to worry about it. But it’s bigger, thanks to my gym routines, and now that I’m 55, putting off the surgery no longer makes sense.

I’m not worried about the operation. As with everything these days but open heart surgery, no overnight stay is needed. I know the surgeon well and am glad he’s the one who will operate on me. He says I’ll be able to do whatever I want after thirty days.

My recent ex is coming over tonight. He’ll drive me back and forth to the hospital, and is staying with me until I can take care of myself. I am so grateful we have that kind of relationship. That he’s willing to be here for me now makes everything about the surgery easier.

When we first talked about the operation, I said he might need to spend one night at my house and then I should be fine. The next time it came up, he’d done some checking around and thought maybe I was underestimating the impact. He told me he planned to stay as long as I needed his help.

Between the surgeon and my recent ex (maybe I should just refer to him as the finest man on earth — FMOE for short), I’m in good hands. Friends and coworkers have offered to help, too, and had he not been willing or able, I would have worked things out with them. But knowing FMOE will be here eliminates any anxiety about how I’ll manage after the operation. And for that, I’m even more grateful.

Not knowing what to expect during those first thirty days is the hard part. How incapacitated will I be and for how long? When will I be able to drive, return to work, run, do Zumba, and go back to the gym? I don’t want to rush things. But I also don’t want to use this as an excuse — any more than I already have.

From what the doctor said, I don’t think I’ll be down for long. He said I’d have some pain, but could start walking for exercise right away. Like I said, not knowing what to expect is the hard part — especially for a control freak like me.

Knowing the surgery was coming has given me a “what’s the point?” attitude about my exercise routine. My personal trainer was the first to go. I canceled all our March appointments and am likely to do the same for April. Workouts without him lasted a week or two longer. I got in my last run on Saturday, and my last Zumba class on Sunday.

Work has been wild, and got even more crazy last week when out of the blue, a huge project landed on my head. I’d been thinking about working like a fiend before the operation and then rushing back to work as soon as I could. But then, I took a look at my calendar and changed my mind. I’m booked solid through April, May, June, and July. If I’m going to take any time off, it’s now or never.

Monday morning I did everything I could to move projects forward, cleared off my desk, and left at noon. Using a combination of vacation time and sick leave, I plan to be off through March 22. Whether to recover for the surgery or my mental health, I need the break.

I am anxious about the disruption to my exercise regimen. The break will set me back, no doubt about it. Taking a week off is one thing. Taking nearly a month off will be like starting over again. But that’s not what I’m worried about, either. My biggest fear is that I’ll take a permanent break from running and the gym.

But I think… hope… I’ve changed. The weather is improving and on pretty days, I want to run. Missing Zumba means I don’t get to hang out with my girls. And if I’m paying for the gym and  twice-a-month sessions with a trainer, I may as well go. Besides all that, now that I’m on the edge of hot, I’m motivated to push through to the other side.

Thanks in advance for your thoughts, prayers, and wishes for a speedy recovery. I’ll let you know how it all went when the pain pills are gone and I can type again.