I am a ball of nerves today, because tomorrow is my slicing and dicing day. It will start at 5:00 a.m. when I arise and prepare to depart the Mansion. We need to leave by 6:00 in case traffic is in a snarl because of the one-lane bottleneck on I-55 due to construction. I am supposed to check in at 8:00, from whence I will languish in anticipation until they are ready to begin at 10:00. My doctor has booked the O.R. from 10:00 to 12:00, though he told me it would probably take about an hour and a half. The anesthesia paraprofessional dude who took my meds info told me that it may take between 1-2 hours to wake up from my excursion into La La Land. His words, not mine. He said they would give me something before wheeling me into the O.R. so I would not care what they did to me. If it works as good as the nitrous oxide at the dentist, I should be good to go.
I figure that by 2:00, I should be awake and trying out the pain meds. The #1 son has assisted me in loading some music on an MP3. Whether I will remember how to turn it on remains to be seen. I figure that will help me pass the time, since Caregiver H will drop me like a hot potato when it is goat-feeding time. My sister is driving my mom up to check on me around 1:00. I hope they can make a speedy escape before rush hour, though my sister says that traffic doesn't bother her. My niece, she of the gambling friends who planned to sleep in Bill's room, will be minding the young 'uns. I am paying her, even though she protests, because time IS money, and she is a college gal, and doesn't have a summer job lined up this year.
Employee of the Year H says he is going to work on Wednesday morning, but that he will come pick me up when they are ready to let me out. Ain't that downright husbandly of him? All I can think about is the time I went into labor with the #1 son, and Father of the Year H made me wait until he took a shower before we could head to the hospital. Wouldn't you know it, I got there too late for an epidural, and had to push that sunny-side-up big-headed boy out with just a single shot of some kind of non-working painkiller. Oh, and Hot-House Flower H told the labor nurse that it was too cold in the room, and she turned up the heat. Meanwhile, I was on my hands and knees on the delivery bed, rivers of sweat pouring from every nook and cranny, trying to birth that bowling-ball-headed baby. Ahh...good times. I'm hoping Devoted Companion H won't whip out a Milky Way and eat it in front of me this time.
I'm also wishing for a room without a roommate, or at least one so drugged up she can't protest, because I would like to watch Glee tomorrow night. At least the whole ordeal will be over with by this time tomorrow.
I have been dreading it since last November. I'm ready to move on and start worrying about something else--like whether the #1 son's basketball coach will ban me from watching open gym this summer.