OK, I’m less than two days away from surgery. It had been scheduled for 8:30 Thursday morning, allowing me to sleep through the fasting period required, but I got a call today at work that no, it would be at 3 PM now. No, does this work for you, just a, this is the way it is. Never mind that I have kids, and daycare and a husband with a job, and no family really close.
Fortunately I’d already asked my dad to be around to make sure I had some company for my drug induced haze (I figured an old hippy would good company when stoned on legal narcotics). I called him, asked him to come a bit earlier and oh, would he mind actually chaperoning me to the hospital because I would be waking up right when the kids were done with daycare. We need to have a parent pick them up and while he could do the witching hour, he’s 65 and a little spacey from time to time, so um, no.
So I had a little breakdown at work about it all. I don’t want my dad there when I wake up. I love my dad, but I just don’t have that kind of relationship with him. We’re buds. Buds don’t deal with you when you’re a drooling drugged up mess. I wake up from anesthesia messy and emotional. I wanted my husband there. He’s my best friend and he’s seen me get an epesiotomy for cripes sake. He’s the one I want there. And I don’t get it.
So I made myself feel better by eating my feelings for lunch. Except it didn’t entirely work. I’ve managed to adjust my eating habits for long enough that when I got to the end of my amazeballs shrimp po’boy from The Smack Shack (side note, H’s name should be Lobster Roll because of how much I ate there when pregnant), I didn’t really have the appetite for the chips. I was… full. I had no need for more than a few of them. The rest, too greasy and rich. Weird, right?
I suppose it goes to figure. I’ve lost 26 pounds so far. I’ve weighed myself then promptly gave up on counting points until I’m back to eating regular food. I figure that adding up single point popsicles all day is slightly pointless. Hah, made a pun.
Total Lost: 26
I won’t weigh in again for two weeks. I mean, I’ll get on a scale, but I won’t care. My coworker who had a similar surgery said that I should get some of the new Ben & Jerry’s flavor, and I am trying to resist. I mean, I don’t want to be the first person to gain weight after a tonsillectomy. Well, OK, I didn’t entirely resist, but I got the frozen yogurt.
Posting should be light too. Unless I’m just screwed up enough to blog while on the pain killers. You can’t drive, but you can totally let your guard down and post all of those things about your family that you’ve been dieing to bitch about… Better idea, I think I’ll steal the power cord to my PC to prevent any family civil wars.