Tomorrow one of two things will happen.
I will not post at all. Or. I will post, and it will be a whacked out, drug addled mess of incoherent thoughts.
I’m hoping for option A.
This time tomorrow they will be rolling me into an operating room to repair my accordion of a septum, and to remove my excess turbonites, which are blocking a significant portion of my nasal passages and making breathing difficult. I, by the way, am not a mouth breather. At all. I end up breathing through my nose anyway, sucking air through the tiny space, and the result is that when I breathe, I sound like Tony Soprano.
Anyway, it’s all very weird. Six months ago I would have sworn a turbonite was something that belonged in a car engine, and now I’m having those bitches cut out. Actually, I was supposed to have this done at the end of last summer and chickened out several days beforehand. Even though I know the doctor is excellent, I kept thinking, what if he sneezes while he’s working on me? Or what if he confuses me with someone else, and instead of repairing the inside of my face, I wake up with a Jackson-esque nose?
I finally decided to suck it up and go through with it. So, tomorrow I will be good and drugged up, and have instructed my husband to keep me away from the computer. Chances are I’ll sleep most of the day, but you never know. If you will recall, last time I had surgery, the only thing I clearly remember was the nurse telling me my skin was yellow, and that I needed to get it checked out right away. That, of course, never happened. I have no idea where it came from, unless I was worried about what I looked like under the harsh hospital lights, or some such ridiculous thing.
I don’t really remember what happened after I woke, though my husband told me I fixated on a topic, and asked the same question repeatedly. This time, I want to get out of the recovery room as soon as possible, and told him he needs to get me to focus so we can get the hell out of dodge. A few days ago I read an article in which the author had eye surgery, and she said her husband told her the first thing she said upon waking was, “Did they shave off my pubic hair?” So my new fear, rather than focusing on what could go wrong during the procedure, is what might come out of my mouth when I wake up.
Wait, where was I going with this? Oh, right, posting. Tomorrow my husband has two tasks, 1) to make sure I don’t talk about pubic hair at the hospital, and 2) to keep me away from the computer. However, when I am determined to do something, he usually opts to let me. Plus, with his sense of humor, I’m sure he’d let me post just to see what I write.
Happy Monday folks.
post! post! I want to hear what you say!! What color your skin is, what they did with your pubic hair and if you say it like Tony Soprano!
I’ll let you know if I wake up saying fugetaboutit.
Good luck with the operation. You will be totally fine!!
And I also vote for posting. Should be interesting on all those pain meds. We can call it a social experiment. It will be fun times. Even if it’s about pubic hair.
Ahhhh, lucky me, getting to be the guinea pig for your experiment:)
Good luck! I’m still trying to get my mom to tell me about the funny shit I said once pre-surgery (whilst on calming meds b/c I got crazy anxious about the operation). To this day she laughs when it’s brought up but refuses to tell me what the hell came out of my mouth. This scares me more than operations now.
I chose not to take the pre-surgical cocktail IV last time for fear of something just like that.
I hope you recover quickly! (And say some awesome stuff. It makes great blog material you know.)
True. Blog fodder is always a good thing.
Exciting/scary. It’s LASIK week for me, and now I guess I have to worry about asking about pubic hair while sedated. Thanks.
You’re welcome, I’m glad I could be of help. And if you do start rambling about pubic hair, you’ll have to break away from the movie reviews and post about it.
I’d offer you luck, but you won’t need it. Everything will go smoothly. I will wish you a speedy recovery, have fun with the post-op meds, and definitely post. That kinda thing is hilarious.
Yeah, I’m not too worried about the surgery, it’s no big deal. I am, however, worried about what might come out of my mouth. Lord knows most of what I think is not meant to ever be heard.
OH NO, now you’re gonna think embarrassing things! Sorry. Hope the procedure goes alright
Good luck. I hope everything goes well, with, ah,er, your nose? Yeah.
speedy recovery and hope all goes well and you dont end up with a Jackson-esque nose
Oh, best of luck and good thoughts to you! I hope everything goes well and that you do NOT talk about pubic hair, which is now my official post-drugged fear, too.
Thank you!
Don’t let them mess you nose up- Women pay tens of thousands in Bev. Hills for a nose like yours!!! Boy I hope all goes well tomorrow, but I would be lying if I didn’t want a drug addled Vesta to blog. Just once.
Wishing you a quick, easy, painless procedure Sissy!
My nose looks exactly the same as it did before, thankfully. Among the many weird and whacked out dreams I had the 24 hours after the surgery, a large number of them included me passing by either a mirror, glass, or some reflective surface and finding a different person staring back at me. I guess I was pretty nervous that fixing the interior would somehow alter the exterior.