Deep breath....then, ice cream

I just returned a call to the doctor I've been dreading. I had to tell the assistant on the other end that I'm just not ready to schedule another surgery yet. The woman was very kind and even sweet (a rarity with doctor's offices).
I knew it wasn't going to be that big of a deal, but still. I've put it off for four days now just because I know when I pick up the phone I'm going to have to "go there." And I'm SICK of "going there." The pit in my stomach that reminds me I still have lots of decisions to make about what's the right next step to possibly help my lower back pain. I absolutely hate dealing with medical stuff, and I've had to deal with so many different aspects of it (testing, appointments, doctors, insurance, medication, surgery, life-changing decisions) for a long time now. I'm over it.
As a little girl whenever I did something brave, like getting shots at the doctor, or after my first day of school, my mom would swing by McDonalds and buy me a vanilla ice cream cone.
And no kidding, when I hung up from making this call, I was almost expecting someone to be standing there with a proud smile and a cone of creamy goodness for me. No one was there, of course. I'm 31 years old, for goodness sakes. But some things from childhood never die. And when SaraRose wakes up I may just take her out to McDonalds in honor of my courage. I think I deserve it.