But They're My Toes

My foot surgery is 1 week and 2 days away, and the nerves are wholeheartedly beginning to kick in with vengeance. I'm trying to throw myself into work, to concentrate on getting done what I need to get done before I'm out for 10 days to 3 weeks, but that just causes the anxiety to kick up even more, as I work in litigation for the Nursing Board, and spend my day setting hearings for nurses who have done wrong. This fact alone scares the bejesus out of me. I'm also not a big fan of needles, or blood, or pain, or being out of my element, but my feet hurt so bad right now, I'm willing to tolerate those for the sake of feeling better.

But underneath all of that is a fear that is hard to explain to people when they ask, "What are you really scared of?" It's my toes. I danced between the ages of two and seventeen, and I like to keep up on it. I love my toes. They're my favorite part of me. My toes are always perfect- I can't straighten my legs, but my gah do I have a killer point. So the fact that I'm putting them in the hands of somebody else, somebody who is going to cut into them, put screws in them, scrape them and bandage them- it scares me. I know the whole "he has a degree, he won Podiatrist of the Year twice" thing. I get it. He had the education, the experience, the technical stuff. 

But does he realize that when he cuts into my toes, he all but cuts into the very soul of my being? Dancing has, on many occasions, been the saving grace of my sanity. Hard day at work? Calm down with a ballet warm up. Feeling giggly? Turn the music up and dance. PMS? Jumps and turns to relieve the cramps and chase the blues away. These are MY toes. 

Tell me all you want that this is a simple surgery, that thousands of people have had this done. It doesn't matter. Percentages don't matter. Just promise me I'll be able to dance again. Promise me that I'll be able to turn, to leap, to twist again. Promise me you will not mess with my toes. For many moons, they defined me.