Under the Knife, Under Stress

So I’m scheduled for a little minor surgery on Friday morning. It’s nothing big at all. Just a run-of-the-mill outpatient procedure that I’m sure my surgeon can perform inebriated, eyes closed and with one arm tied behind her back. This is not a suggestion doc. By all means please lay off the booze and keep necessary appendages moving freely while you’re rooting around inside my abdomen.

I’m trying not to be a weenie about it, but it’s my first time at the hospital as a patient. I’ve certainly paced the sterile halls of a hospital before, but mostly awaiting the arrival of little ones. Nothing scary about that… unless of course you’re the one pushing the little one into the world. Hee hee whooo, hee hee whooo!

I’ve never broken a bone, never had surgery, never needed anesthesia for any reason. I’m honestly looking forward to what this procedure might fix. It’s the hospital experience I’m dreading.

Why is it that when disaster strikes we all hope we’re near a hospital, but when we’re actually scheduled to be admitted into one, we wish we could be miles and miles away? Ah, the irony.

Well, I apologize in advance for any posts I may make while hopped up on pain killers. They should be entertaining at the least.