Let me explain: this blog post is scheduled to run on December 7, but I’m writing it on November 20. Why? Because I’m going to have (or, when you’re reading this, will just have had) some vertebrae fused together, and I don't want to worry about writing a blog post from my hospital bed. Here’s the cool part: I’m getting some shiny new cadaver bone put in me, too. (I have one friend who keeps referring to the surgery as my cadaver implant procedure.)
Now that the operation is over with (as you’re reading this), I guess it’s safe to talk about the things worrying me (as I’m typing this). I don’t sleep well these days anyway because of the pain, which gives me lots of time to drive myself nuts thinking about this stuff:
- Will I have a roommate in the hospital? Will she be incontinent, like the last one? If so, is this a sign? Dear lord, what kind of sign?
- Is the cat missing, or just hiding among the dust balls in the living room? Is there a way to find out without having to vacuum?
- What if I get my period on the operating table?
- Remember when I used to obsess about my house being clean? What happened to that girl?
- Will my old physical therapist find out I have a new physical therapist? What’s the proper etiquette if I run into my old physical therapist in the grocery store? Do we both pretend this new PT isn’t a thing between us?
- What if I forget all my passwords when I wake up from surgery?
- Will my sister come through on her promise of tuna noodle casserole? I could really go for some. What if she forgets? Maybe I should change all my passwords to tuna n00dle, then send them to her for safekeeping.
- I am brilliant!
- I am also on medication that makes me loopy.
- And brilliant!
- What if I die on the operating table and this blog post is a message from beyond the grave? Will that upset my mother? I love you, Mom. Sorry for croaking on the table.
Anyway, I’m hoping by the time you (and I) read this, all my fears will be put to rest. Also, cadaver bone. Makes it all worth it.