Countdown

Well, it's 10:20 p.m. at this writing and I 'm chugging down a nutritious chocolate shake. I have a little more time before the dreaded eating cutoff at midnight. Then, Steve will need to padlock the fridge because there's no food until after surgery tomorrow afternoon and I'll be pining for snacks much like our youngest cat Leo does at 4:30 a.m. The little orange baby monster has us trained, as we often sit on the floor while Leo lounges on the couch in pre-nap-bath-mode, licking his full stomach. Soon Leo will have suspicious cat breath, so I take a mental note not to give him kisses until I see him drink a full bowl of water. 

The surgeon is in the hard-core-no-food-after-midnight camp. It'll be an interesting day because of low blood sugar. If I'm Captain Crabby Pants tomorrow, it's the surgeon's fault. I'll try to stay kind, but the jury's out. Hanger's a tough beast to wrangle sometimes. I do admire my surgeon's caution because asphyxiation during a surgical procedure is problematic. I also admire the fact that when I met with my surgeon in April, his hands were steady. Rock steady. There is hope, after all. 

By the way, this is the first time I've ever had an organ removed. I had several teeth extracted last century when I was in 7th grade and looked like a scrawny little jack-o-lantern with frizzy hair and braces. That added to my ever-rising nerd cred, plus the fact that I could squirt out water through several gaping holes in my mouth until the permanent ones grew in. That trick permanently cemented my spot in the royal nerd court. I'm still proud of that trick and was a little sad when my big girl teeth finally grew in. 

I'm skipping the mono story at fifteen, because there was no surgery. Nothing was removed. I got mono, my throat swelled shut, and I was hospitalized for dehydration. The end. I was sad I couldn't wear my pink cake topper dress to the concert band formal. I remember losing a lot of weight and being cold in the band room upon my return. 

Fast forward to college. Wisdom teeth removal. Starvation, then anesthetic, and then Boom! Boom! Boom! Three wisdom teeth outta there. Luckily, the fourth one never emerged. I'm trying to remember if I put the teeth under my pillow and if so, if the tooth fairy visited? I don't think they were allowed to give us our teeth back. They were probably in pieces. If so, would that count as one tooth or several? 

I remember when Steve had his wisdom teeth removed in college. He had the cutest chipmunk cheeks, and as he recovered, I remember fetching chocolate shakes for him. It's been awhile since I fetched one for him. I need to fix that. 

Fast forward to  November 1997. Soon after Steve and I married,  I had laparoscopic surgery; they found and removed benign cysts on my bladder. I remembered the photographs we received grossed my mom out. Nothing like a couple of mementos.  I thought the pics would make great Christmas card photos, but both Steve and my mother disagreed. 

Then in 2005 or 2006, I had sinus surgery. They drilled holes in my skull to make air holes larger and corrected a deviated septum. It was a life-changing procedure; I no longer have a squeaky, nasally voice. Even though the removal of the gauze was akin to giving birth to the world's largest booger, it was well worth the trauma.  

There were also biopsies (too many to recall), endoscopies, and colonoscopies. Nothing screams middle age like a colonoscopy. There should be a punch card and prizes. 

Tomorrow there will be a new story to add to the list of surgical adventures and hoping the gallbladder removal's a rather boring tale. I'll be the proud owner of four new abdominal scars. I may ask the surgeon to make cool incisions like crescent moons or lightning bolts.  The surgery will be significant, though because it will be the first major one without my mother alive, but I know she will be with us.