Impatient Outpatient

Once again, I am on the eve of surgery. Since I woke this morning, I have had to refrain from smoking, and I will not be allowed to imbibe any adult beverages this evening. Even though, for reasons completely unrelated to my surgery, I could use a vodka. Or twenty. I have a whole post I'd like to write about why, exactly, I could really use a good bender right now, but that's just going to have to wait.

At any rate, I went to the hospital today, gave more blood, just in case I need it. I got a very fashionable bracelet to wear through the night. I'm all ready for surgery.

This time, I'm not even really thinking of it. I'm just sort of anxious to get it over with. I want to be able to smoke again, and to hopefully go a few weeks without feeling, as I do now, like there's a vice grip around my midsection. That's the goal. I just want it to be done. I'm starting to get impatient; I just want to get there, go under and get out. I'm no longer worried or nervous or full of angst. I'm just tired of waiting, and ready to be done. I just got the call from the hospital, and I'm the first same-day surgery that my doctor is doing tomorrow. But I do have to follow two "major surgeries." So I have to go in at ten, but I've been advised to call before I leave the house. Here's hoping I get right in and right out.

So this time, hopefully for real, I really am going to be absent for a few days, at least until I'm good and recovered. I'd blog from home, but, as I've said before, our computer decided it no longer felt like turning on. (Which is pretty much the last straw for that thing. If Billy doesn't throw it out of a window and into a tree, I will.) So, unless I visit Ma & Pa's house, this will be my last post until Monday.

Everybody have a great rest of the week, and an awesome weekend. Ya'll come back now, y'hear?