Surgery is Tuesday at 1030. It'll be a long one, so I might be floating high on good drugs for the night and next morning. I offered to carry the pager at work, but I'll likely be intubated. However, I can probably still text, so they might put me to work.
Oh, trust me. There are things I want to finish. I've always had a bucket list, even when I was a little kid. If nothing else, I have a free summer with limited mobility ahead of me. While I may be sleeping for much of this time, I intend to use it to good effect. I always wondered how much I could get done if I only had the time...
Let's see what I can accomplish if I put my mind to it.
Janet, seven books? Get hopping, girl. You can try to slap my pussy hat off my head, but I warn you, I'm fierce.
Dirk, I'll get to the Aussie's second appearance. Let me wake up from the Diprivan first, otherwise, this review is going to be hilarious.
K needs me the most, I completely agree. Who else is going to have the nerve to point out that people don't ride bareback in freezing weather (in a sheet no less) on a 40 mph horse?
NJC, Thou shalt see mine story in print. If I have to break my own damn rules and self-publish. And I'll keep writing forward instead of just revising. Got to get the story out of me so I can figure out how deep the rabbit hole goes.
Tuesday looms larger tonight. I'm no longer working nights, and I'm still awake. Damn the Sandman, anyway. Thought yesterday was a wonderful day. Drove through the Metropark, took my kids to the trampoline park, visited my sister, ate anything I felt like, and then had a wine cooler. We got home and I took a nap. Now I'm writing.
I have to say this out loud. Others just roll their eyes at me when I say things like this...
Good things about Ovarian cancer.
You get the summer off work.
You get to meet new people and insult them.
You get to talk back to your surgeon and swear as much as you want.
You never have to have a period ever again.
You get to have more quality time with your kids.
You pass an accident on the side of the road and realize that someone else is having a shittier day than you are.
You get to be the patient and walk around showing people your butt crack.
Hospital food (OK, maybe not)
Weight loss.
Scars. I can make up any story I want, and a lay-person might believe that I was in a knife-fight. I'm a writer. The story will be believable.
I don't give a shit about diabetes any longer. I. Just. Don't. Care. Hypertension? Pfft.
That's what I've got so far. I'm sure that there will be more to come.
A
