I wasn't going to write anything more here in my online therapy session prior to surgery, but because you guys are way too nice to me what with your emails and good vibes and what not, I had to produce a blip really quick before we leave. (Speaking of producing a blip, my tummy is nervous.)
Kitten came home to drive me to the Big City hospital named after a saint with a really friendly name. I'm betting if he were alive, we'd totally hang out. Anyway, as Mr. Man is rendered useless at the moment, she is my guardian for the duration of my hospital stay. Thank God for 22 year old daughters who respond positively to maternal guilt.
Unfortunately her sweetie had a minor surgery just yesterday, so my kid will be spread thin. She'll take me, wait for me to recover, then run home to baby him. Tomorrow she'll be back to collect me and carry my drugged up and gallbladderless behind home.
Which means I will be alone today and tonight in the saint hospital and that scares the blip right out of me. Mr. Man is my protector and when I am hospitalized, he's the guy in charge of taking me potty and making sure there are no air bubbles in my IV. What am I going to do without him?
Even though I know I am not supposed to wear make-up to surgery, I am going to do it anyway. If I look good enough I'm thinking I can pick up some random guy in the waiting room and perhaps sway him into wanting to repeatedly take me to the bathroom in the middle of the night and stare non-stop at my IV while I sleep. He'll also have to kiss my forehead when I whimper. That's Mr. Man's specialty. Whimper soothing forehead kisses.
I guess I'd better run and prepare myself as the time of departure is quickly approaching and my sitting here writing isn't going to make this go away.
Thank you terrible for your emails of support and well wishes. If the collective you were here right now, I would hug you inappropriately and tell you I love you. I would also probably grab your butt 'cause that's how I roll.
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