Only 7 Days Until I Go Under The Knife

My surgery will be next Thursday February 8, 2007. Jory was able to schedule a week off to take care of me during the mandatory 24 hour care period. The crucial first 4-5 days that I'm in so much pain, they keep me doped up so I sleep through most of it. Those days that every time Jory wakes me up to administer more drugs, I ask him what the doctor said. And being the most fabulous husband in the world, he relays the story over and over again. The other night I was telling Keara that I should get a digital recorder so Jory could record the story the first time I ask, that way when I ask him every 4 hours he can hand me the recorder and just play it back.

After Jory returns to work, in order to wing it alone, our friend Keara has so kindly offered her mini fridge. We'll stock it with pre-made lunches and drinks so I don't stumble my stitched and stapled, doped ass to the kitchen, fall and brake a hip, then lay there until Jory gets home at 10:30 PM. I'll be fine.

I'm not looking forward to the day before surgery when I have to drink that nasty magnesium citrate and sit on the pooper all fucking day. And let's not forget the catheter during surgery makes you feel like you've been holding your pee for days and days and no matter how many times you go to the bathroom, that painful feeling doesn't go away! Mind you, I'll be waddling in pain the entire trek to the bathroom.

Jory and I have been going down memory lane and reminding each other what happened last time. This has been both helpful to be better prepared this time and scary because we know what to expect. I'm definitely more stressed this time. I clearly remember the pain I went through regardless of the drugs they gave me. Waking up from surgery with the nurse telling me over and over to take deep breaths and hearing the oxygen alarm go off, scary! Feeling like they had cut me open, tossed my guts on the floor then shoved them back in, not something I really want to relive.

I don't know, there's this sense of doom this time around. I know how fragile and precious life is and how quickly it can be taken away. I'm not saying I feel like I'm going to die, I'm just more aware of how serious this all is. Everyone keeps telling me I need to be optimistic, but that hasn't worked well this past year. Please, I just don't want to hear that I already have cancer!