Alright, alright. I wrote up an advance directive. No life support, no tube feeding (“Pull it like you’re startin’ a mower!”) and Victor is my designated health care representative. You guys are totally freaking me out.
Tonight I was chatting with a high school friend on Facebook who happens to be an RN at the hospital in which my surgery is being done. She said she asked to be in there with me, for which I’m feeling very grateful. I reminded her that she can’t make me laugh or I’ll burst my stitches and she promised she will not tell jokes or embarrassing high school stories to the cute surgeon. Of course, having recently posted pictures on Facebook of her from high school, I fully expect that illicit photos of my flab will somehow show up on Facebook tomorrow afternoon. HIPAA laws be damned; revenge is so very sweet. I don’t like it, but I can’t blame her a bit.
I check in at 9:30 tomorrow morning to get prepped for surgery at 11:30. It’s expected to take about an hour and a half. I’ve set up permissions so that Vic can post important info on my blog, and he’ll be making phone calls to a few of you. He’ll be home with me on Friday too. Many of you have offered help and I want you to know we appreciate that very much—I don’t anticipate needing anything, but I’m keeping your offers handy, just in case.
Many lovies to you all—
I'm too far away to offer help, but know that I would if I could. I'd send you some sushi from my sushi lunch tomorrow, but I know how you feel about that...
ReplyDelete