The Countdown to Cuttage

This morning, I got up before the buttcrack of dawn and took my brother to work because his truck sucks. Fortunately, he has possibly found someone he may be able to carpool with. I will keep my fingers crossed that an arrangement is made.

I made it back home before the sun came up, and jumped back into bed for an hour or two of sleep. Got back out of bed, threw on some clothes, and attempted to haul ass to the hospital for round-two of pre-op preparations. Attempted, being the keyword.

Traffic. Backed up. As far as the eye could see. I called the office to let them know I was going to be late. The elderly receptionist chuckled as if she'd been hearing this all morning, "Of course, dear, the President is in town."

"What!?! As if we needed another reason to hate him..."

So, I finally make it to my appointment. Three hours later, I get to leave after having blood drawn, poked and prodded by an anesthesia resident, and sign my life away on various consent forms. They wanted to make sure someone would be staying at the house with me overnight in case I had a bad reaction to the anesthesia. I explained my brother was currently staying with me, all the while I had visions of him running around the house trying to capture cicadas, just like he was doing last night.

Eager to get back home for a nap, I run into more traffic, which I can only assume was Dubya leaving KC. Terrorist of the United States, Bane of the Average Joe Commuter, and Scourge of Naptime. Bastard.

So, tomorrow is the big day. The actual procedure will only take less than fifteen minutes. I will spend more time in recovery coming out from anesthesia than I will in the actual O.R. Mom is taking a day off from work to take me to and from the hospital. Rather than dress up, I've decided to just go in my pajamas. That way, I can just go home and go straight to bed without bothering with changing. I suspect I will spend a lot of time sleeping, but I will drop an update when I am out of the fog of narcotics.

Wish me luck!!