Oct. 8: Post-surgery update

My port placement surgery yesterday was uneventful—the best kind. I’m home now.

Although my dear friend Margaret wasn’t my surgery nurse this time, she assured me beforehand that the nurse I had was a good one. I also had a nice surprise when I got to the operating room, when I saw a former coworker (and Oliver’s first human momma!) was working. She held my hand until the anesthesia kicked in. I tell ya, if you want to feel pampered and cared for, have surgery in a hospital where you know lots of people. It makes the whole experience much nicer. That is, until you throw up all over them; then it’s just embarrassing.

(I would assume.) For the record, I threw up on NO ONE at the hospital. I waited until I got home.

The last thing I remember in the OR was skooching over to the operating table. The next thing I knew, my surgical team woke me and I was in post-op. I asked them if I could live-Twitter my surgery. Someone chuckled and said my surgery was over, and I turned to the surgeon and asked if he was going to live-Twitter my surgery. I don’t know why this Twittering idea came into my head at the very moment I came out of the anesthesia, but I cannot possibly express how embarrassed I was when I remembered it later. I’m not only one of those goofy idiots who can’t shut up under anesthesia; I also revealed to all of them that I’m a total nerd. Gah.

My short stay nurse later told me that I was in the operating room for 13 minutes—super-speedy surgery, huh? I had propofol as my anesthesia. That is some amazing stuff—it’s really quite easy to come out of it; never mind that it makes people (me) say dorky computer geek things. Once I was in my short stay room, I was given graham crackers and ice water. It was about 11 a.m. by then, so it had been more than 12 hours since I’d eaten and I was starving. I texted Victor that I needed coffee and he brought a big cup to me right away. I took one sip and knew I wasn’t going to keep those crackers down.

For the next three hours I fought off a tremendous headache and nausea. The headache was hunger-related and sinus-y (I wasn’t allowed to use my nasal spray that morning, as I usually do when I wake up all stuffy), which in turn was causing the nausea. Contributing to the headache was my blood pressure, which was higher than usual because I was told not to take my dyazide that morning. I hadn’t been able to have caffeine that morning either, of course, so that had something to do with my headache too. It was kind of a vicious circle, though: I needed to get something in my stomach to help with the hunger headache, but I was nauseous so it was hard to keep food down, which was stressing me out and making my blood pressure go even higher, which was making my headache worse, which was making me more nauseous, so I was given Vicodin for the headache but I didn’t have enough food in my stomach so it made me more nauseous. (Have you read If You Give a Mouse a Cookie? That’s the icky version of that story.)

Besides spending a lot more time in short stay than we’d thought I would, most everything went well. It wasn’t until I got home that I kinda fell apart. I took one bite of real food (pasta) and was suddenly very glad I’d nabbed that emesis bag as I left my hospital room. I spent the rest of the evening eating saltines and water between long, drug-addled dreams.

During the night I woke up and discovered that the numbness around my incision had worn off and I was feeling every movement in that area. Ouchie! I threw back a couple Vicodin and slept a good eight hours. I was able to keep breakfast down this morning, thanks to Zofran, and slept another several hours. I’m not getting anything accomplished today, but it sure is nice to get some long overdue rest.

In fact, I’m about ready for another nap. It’s bad that I’m enjoying this so much, isn’t it? Meh.

Oct. 6: My new part is a port

My port placement surgery that was originally scheduled for tomorrow afternoon was moved to tomorrow morning instead. This is mostly a good thing—I like the idea of getting it over with earlier in the day, not having to go as many hours (awake) without coffee, and getting home before evening. The disadvantage is that I have to check in at the hospital before the kids have to leave for school, Victor won’t be off work until long after I’m ready to leave (probably), and the things I planned to do in the morning are going to have to wait.

However, I’m so glad I’ll have this port for next Tuesday’s chemo, I don’t mind so much that the schedule got all farked up. Look at me, bein’ all flexible and not worked up over something out of my control! I’m like a new woman! Or maybe I’m not the same woman at all! Maybe I’m a totally different person, just faking my way around here as Jen. Hmmm…

The surgeon gave me all the details about the surgery, and it sounds relatively simple. I’ll be put in “conscious sedation,” so I won’t remember anything during the surgery itself, but will wake up pretty easily. After some time in the recovery room, they’ll put me in short stay until they feel I’m ready to leave. The risks are small; there’s a very small chance he could poke my lung, which would necessitate several days in the hospital. That’d be a darn shame, huh, having an excuse to sleep and not much else for a few days? Yeah, I sure hope THAT doesn’t happen.

If for any reason I have to be sedated for a long period of time, which one of you is going to pluck my chin hairs? I’m thinking I could rely on Sunshine or Kim F’n for that. I can, right, girls? You wouldn’t let me grow a beard in the hospital, would you? Forget the deflated lung and sepsis and staph infection. UNWANTED FACIAL HAIR DOESN’T JUST FALL OUT ON ITS OWN.

Until I feel like blogging again, remember that I love you best. Yes, YOU.

Oct. 4: Daybook

Today…

Outside my window... the sky is blue and bright with just a few clouds. Very pretty right now, especially with the trees changing color all around. I mean, if fall has to happen, it’s not so bad when the sun is shining. There are maple trees all along the streets in our neighborhood, and they all seem to be just a bit different variety, so they change colors at different times. It makes it quite beautiful.

This weekend, I… spent too much time on PTO things. Saturday night we went to Five Guys for dinner. I had never been there before. Except for the weird cheese they use on their burgers, I thought they were pretty good. The fries were so-so. I spent a lot of yesterday reading a book, in between PTO projects.

I am thinking... that this week will be busy and fun. Bun. Or fizzy. I like “fizzy.” Even though it should probably be spelled “fusy.” Which reminds me of a name I saw on a class roster at school that was spelled something like Yclqapdemrtz, and the teacher had written in parentheses, “(pronounced ‘Heidi.’)” People these days. Somebody should let me kill people for naming their kids shit like that.

I am thankful... that I am my husband’s only wife. I watched the first episode of Sister Wives yesterday and OMG, that lifestyle is odd. It appears to be nothing but a big ol’ ball of fun to these folks; they don’t seem to be following a church doctrine or doing it for Biblical reasons. Maybe more of that will be featured in other episodes. Whatever. I can’t get over the ego on that guy.

I am working on... the T-shirts for the upcoming Jogathon, a flyer for tomorrow, newsletter items, and finishing up the book I started reading yesterday.

I am going... to have surgery on Thursday. I’m getting my port! I check in at 12:30, am supposed to go into surgery at 2:30, and should be home by evening.

I am reading... a book, as well as the magazine I accidentally took from the doctor’s office today. Oops. Heh heh.

I am hoping... that the sore throat I started getting yesterday does NOT turn into a full-blown sickness. I’m suddenly wishing I’d paid more attention to all of Sherilee’s Emergen-C and and Airborne treatments when she’s warded off these things, because they always seem to work for her.

I am hearing... a lot of peace and quiet. It’s lovely. Katie and Jack are spending the night at Grandpa and Grandma’s, and Vic just left with Jack for football practice. I’m going to read for a while.

Around the house... I’ve got some cleaning to do. Sheila R is coming for a visit next week. Sheila, if I meet you at the front door with a hotel room key, it’s because I never got around to the cleaning. And please let me come with you.

One of my favorite things... is when I order regular fries at Burgerville but find a few sweet potato fries mixed in. BONUS. Those things are yum-mee.

Plans for the rest of the week: school, school, and more school. School district meeting tomorrow night. Wednesday is Donuts with Dad at the school—I love this event! Surgery Thursday. Victor’s going to a family wedding in California on Friday, and Mother Mary is coming for a few days starting Saturday.

Here’s an image I want to share:

This is the kind of polygamy for me. And no, I don’t care if they’re all gay. 

One more thing: I went topless today! It was my first time going out in public without a hat or scarf in almost ten months. It felt weird, but in a good way; I loved feeling the wind on my head but I also felt a little naked. Pretty sure I can get used to it, though.

“We'll be fine, thank you! See ya! Hope you don't get gonorrhea!”

Want to blog your own Daybook? Here’s the info: The Simple Woman’s Daybook.

Jan. 29: Gratitude

Sherilee has inspired me again to reflect on the things for which I’m grateful. It’s not an easy thing for me this week, as I’m feeling pretty rotten, but I think I can still come up with a list worthy of a post. In no particular order…

I’m thankful for Twitter, which frequently gives me the giggles. This evening I was working on a “witty twitters” post to publish in the next few days, and in doing so, discovered a new (to me) Twitterer named MikeyADHD. Like Dogphorisms, Mikey is not what he seems, I’m quite sure—he’s supposedly a kid and definitely oh-so-inappropriate… and also very, very funny. I laughed so hard while I read through his twitters that I thought I was gonna throw up. Laughing until it hurts is pretty great, but I do try to stop before I puke. Usually.

My furry housemates are sweethearts, and I’m quite sure they can sense that I need a little extra lovin’ this week. For the last few days, my nap companions have been two dogs and a cat, all pressed against me playing the let’s-see-who-can-get-closest-to-Jen game. I mostly love that game. This cuddly stuff makes me thankful, also, for a large bed.

Sunshine shared lots of Michael Bublé music videos on Facebook all week, and this one made me smile more than any other. They’re all good, of course. I like this guy so much, but I can’t imagine ever preferring any of his songs over my all-time favorite, “Home.” Here’s a funny video of him pronouncing his name (which is not “boobull,” by the way).

Which reminds me, Jon Hamm and Michael Bublé are on Saturday Night Live tomorrow. Is that a total man-candy episode, or what? 

I love fonts to a somewhat embarrassing degree. It all started when I worked for my friend Lafe in college; he unwittingly made me the font-crazy freak I am today. Here are a bunch of really fun free fonts from a site my friend Deanna told me about. Enjoy, won’t you? And if you want even more fun, check out Lettering Delights. I’ve purchased more of their alphabets and coordinating clip art than I care to admit—sometimes they run great sales—but as the PTO prepares for our big carnival at school next weekend, they’re really coming in handy. That makes it totally worth it, right? Right.

Fancy Lori™ took her son (my future son-in-law) in for an appendectomy this morning. He’s home this evening, and already feeling better. Hooray!

I’m especially grateful this week for eBay/Etsy seller English Traditions. She’s the one who made my new, very pretty and comfy scarves, and in a very speedy manner: I put my fabric in last Friday’s mail and got my finished scarves back yesterday! If you know anyone going through chemotherapy, I recommend these—they’re very well made and fit perfectly. Also, the seller’s name is Kathleen (Kathy), so you know she’s gotta be awesome.

A lot of my friends are going to a memorial service tomorrow for a former classmate of ours. Even those of us who didn’t know her well have been affected by the news of her death; it’s tragic when someone dies too young, and because hers was a suicide, it’s all the more heartbreaking. It sounds like the turnout at the service will be huge, and I’m glad for that, because her mutual friends will definitely need each other for support. I wish she could have seen how many people are devastated by the loss of their friend.

Speaking of friends, I’m incredibly grateful for mine. They do such good things, many of which I doubt they even realize lift my spirits in ways nothing else can. Whether it’s in person, via text message, blog comment, email or Facebook conversation, I adore them for all they are and the ways they continue to enrich my life.

P.S. Here, for no reason whatsoever, is a picture of a cute little bunny:

You’re welcome.

Jan. 20: It was not a toomah

Today I saw the surgeon for a follow-up on my surgery 12 days ago. Before the surgery we weren’t sure exactly what it was that was being removed from my abdominal wall, but they called it a tumor. The guess was that the mass of painful whatever-it-was was most likely scar tissue or a hematoma.

After the surgery they sent my guts to a pathologist. I was eager to hear the results as soon as possible, and when no one called me about it I decided to assume there was no bad news to report. Ignorant, maybe, but come on! Wouldn’t they have called me?

It turns out the tumor was not a tumor, but endometrial tissue. What most likely happened was tissue from the inside of my uterus fell on my abdominal wall during one of my C-sections. This is not all that unusual, the surgeon said, but is normally irrigated and cleaned up before everything gets stitched up again. Apparently a tiny amount was left (lucky me) and it grew for the past 7-9 years, eventually causing sharp pain and extremely bitchy behavior.

And here’s why I say it’s no wonder I was such a bitch: this mass of endometrial tissue had grown to the size of a chicken egg. An EGG!

Of course, the best news is that there was no cancer found in my guts, and because the endometrial tissue was all removed, this should not happen again.

A dear friend of mine—the same one that suggested the tumor could be a hairball, you remember her—said she thought I was being kind of a wimp about recovery for having laparoscopic surgery. I would like to point out that although laparoscopy was the plan when we thought the lump was a hernia, as soon as we determined it was something mysterious, the surgeon said he would have to do traditional surgery. I was not a wimp, Dear Friend, for taking a week to get up and around after having my belly cut open and letting my 5-inch long incision heal. Neither am I trying to steal Obama’s thunder today with my good news of “no malignancy found.” You may now commence apologizing profusely, emoticon-challenged Dear Friend.

Also, I’m kind of embarrassed because now you all know I have a uterus. Please don’t blab it.

Jan. 10: I am back.

It’s been just about 48 hours since I got out of the operating room and it already seems like a distant memory. Actually, it seems more like a story I overheard; my last memory before going in is being given something in my IV that would relax me, and my next memory is of the nurse waking me in recovery. I remember absolutely NOTHING about the surgery. I’m not complaining, but they had been so reassuring that I would be conscious the whole time that I’m surprised I didn’t feel even a little bit like I was.

This surgery is, for the most part, much easier than the C-sections were, but not nearly as exciting. There’s really nothing to distract me from the pain, and that’s not cool, but there’s also nothing keeping me from getting the rest I need.

And I am definitely getting lots of rest. Seems like every time I wake up, there’s some new treat for me, too. The kids and my mother-in-law brought a beautiful vase of lilies, Lori sent a care package of yummy Philosophy scented lotions and shampoos and lip gloss, Kathy and Mom sent a gorgeous arrangement of cheery flowers, Dawn delivered a huge pan of her to-die-for macaroni and cheese, and Darlene brought the beloved and coveted cottage cheese loaf. That’s not all! Dawn invited Katie over yesterday, where she spent the night—and is still there, in fact—and tonight Jack is having a sleepover at his friend Alec’s. The dogs and cat curl up against me whenever I lay down. Every few hours I turn on the computer and read new e-mails from friends and family. All of these things make me feel loved and cared for and right now I can really use the smiles.

Victor’s been amazing. I’m being fed and watered as often as needed. I get my medications on schedule. I just took my first post-surgery shower, and when I walked out of the bathroom I saw he had put fresh, cozy sheets on the bed. The only thing he’s doing wrong is making me laugh too much. Ouch.

I guess that’s the suckiest part of all of this; the pain has been pretty bad. I can take the Vicodin every four hours but if it were up to me I’d take it every three. That last hour is a real bitch. Until today, I’ve had no nausea but this morning was touch-and-go for a long time. I’m still not feeling totally confident I’ll keep down my lunch. The dizziness comes and goes, so I sit and wait a LOT.

After my C-sections I was given a binding to wear that was supposed to be supportive and help me heal. Every time I’d lie down it’d work its way up around my waist and after a few days of fighting with it I finally ripped it off and threw it away. The surgeon didn’t give me any kind of a binding after this procedure, and if he recommended something specific, I slept through his instructions. Yesterday my pain was severe; whenever I tried to stand, sit, roll over, shake, or fetch it was a definite 10 on the pain scale. Last night just before I went to bed, and in anticipation of another restless night, I thought I’d put on a pair of those Spanx things the celebrities rave about. Magic! Gravity be damned, these things were exactly what the doctor did not order but should have. I slept well throughout the night and am feeling much more mobile today.

The real beauty of today was being able to shower. They said I had to wait for two days and I was beginning to smell like feet a lot farther from my feet than I should. You’re welcome, neighbors. Please stop the anonymous notes.

It appears that Vic handled blogging duties well while I was unable. Maybe I’ll ask him to do that more often. He learned at least one very important thing: you can’t mention cottage cheese loaf without explaining what cottage cheese loaf is and why anyone on earth would want to eat cottage cheese loaf.

More later. ‘Sgood to be back.

Jan. 8: Surgery Update

Hey blog followers. I'm Victor, Jen's husband. I'll be filling in, at least for a little while. If you follow this blog, you know that Jen had surgery today. She'll be able to give a more compete version soon, this will be more of a summary.

We checked in at the hospital around 9:30 this morning. The surgery wasn't scheduled till 11:30. I was able to stay with her up to that point. This was a fairly quick procedure. It was less than an hour when they told me the surgery was done. (She still had to stay in recovery for another hour.) The surgeon told me that things went well. They removed whatever it was that was causing the lump and pain. We still don't know what it is. It'll take at least a day or more for the lab to run its tests.

They called me after Jen was taken back to her room. It seemed like her pain wasn't too bad, although that may have been due to the pain meds. We stayed at the hospital till almost 4 pm. Right now Jen is resting up in our room. We'll have a follow up with the surgeon next week.

I'm grateful to all the folks who took care of Jen today. Everyone in the Short Stay unit, Admitting, and Surgery.

Special thanks to Jen's friend Margaret, a nurse in the OR. To our neighbor Dawn, who made us some of her wonderful Mac & Cheese. And to my folks who are watching our kids this afternoon and evening.

Take care.

Vic

Jan. 7: Tomorrow’s the day

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—

Jan. 7: My advance directive

I went through pre-surgery orientation yesterday and now I can’t sleep. I’m really eager to get this over with tomorrow.

They asked if I have an advance directive. I do not. I have a will that was written a few years ago but hasn’t been notarized. That whole “being of sound mind and body” thing has me stumped; would any attorney, physician, or notary believe that I am of sound mind? Because it’s when I try the hardest to seem normal that I seem to be of the least sound mind. Or… whatever.

So here’s the deal: I don’t want to be kept alive by machines. That’s not living.

However…

If I can watch TV, change the channel with my mind (or a remote, I guess), have people bring me food and tasty beverages and change my diaper, THAT, my friend, is living large! Oh man, a diaper would be so awesome. Why are old people grouchy? They get such great stuff, lucky dogs.

If Victor and I both kick the bucket(s), Katie and Jack will go to Kathy. There’s a good chance that if we’re still living when K&J reach their teens, we’ll fake our deaths just to get Kathy to raise them, then reappear when they’re adults and be the long-thought-dead heroes. Yay, Jen and Vic! Oh, what an ordeal they must have been through! Please don’t tell anyone we were living in Canada the whole time.

I need someone to update my Facebook status to say that I’m dead. And a ghostwriter to keep this here blog going for years to come. Volunteers?

There might be other stuff too. I’ll re-read this after I’ve gotten some sleep and edit as needed.

Jan. 5: Like a Boy Scout

It’s just a few more days until my surgery. Good thing, too; my belly’s been hurting more than usual this week. It’s probably because I know it’s just about to be taken care of, or at least that’s what I’ve chosen to believe.

I’m getting kind of nervous, as I think anyone would be going into something like this (except the surgeon, I hope). I’m sure everything will go just fine—statistics show they usually do—but if I let my mind wander… well, yikes. The ideal situation would be that I’m blissfully unaware during the actual surgery, recover easily, and wake up pain-free and with bigger boobs. Oh, and the tumor would be nothing but a mass of scar tissue or something else harmless, as the surgeon expects.

A dear, sweet, caring friend with nothing but the best intentions told me a story in which a woman had a tumor removed that turned out to be a giant hairball. I know, I know; I’m seriously considering her for the ex-friend list now (that means you, too, Corinne). So in an effort to prepare myself for however the surgery turns out and whatever the tumor ends up being, I’ve been making a list of all the things that could possibly happen.

• It could be a giant hairball
  
• It could be a tiny hairball. (I’m thinking neither of these are likely, as I avoid eating and injecting hair under my skin as much as possible.)
  
• It will be a sponge or surgical instrument left in there from when Jack was born. Oh, that might be kinda cool! Lawsuit!
  
• It’ll turn out to be a piece of that crayon I swallowed when I was three years old.
  
• It’ll turn out to be a sliver of the pencil Kathy stabbed me with when she was ten and found out I’d been reading her diary.
  
• It could be a body part, like an ear or hand or something, and I’ll get on the news as some freak who nobody would listen to when she complained about the pain and IS IT ANY WONDER SHE WAS IN SO MUCH PAIN? And they they’ll use my body to grow junk for other people and I’ll be really important and then people will owe me big! (Sorry, I went all George Costanza there for a sec.)
  
• It’ll be a rogue Skallop™
  
• The surgical team will come to me afterward and say, “Ma’am, this whole thing could have been avoided if you just moisturized regularly.”

Whatever happens, however good or bad the outcome is, I better get some damn pampering and sympathy from the husband.

Feel free to add to my list. Pretend it’s for my benefit, even though I know you’re just going to giggle and go nuts trying to scare me. Cuz that’s how ya are.

Jan. 2: Not a cool start to 2009

And you thought the bit in our Christmas letter about the hernia repair surgery was a joke…

Sit down. This one’s gonna take a while.

It’s possible you’ve heard me complain about sharp pain in my abdomen at times. I’ve had it off and on since Jack was born and always attributed it to the C-section.

There have been times when the pain has been worse, so I told my doctor about it several years ago. She said she thought I had a fistula and sent me back to the OB/GYN that did my C-sections.

My OB said there was no way I had a fistula and said it was probably a lump of excessive scar tissue from the C-section. She said she could remove some but that it was an awfully big surgical procedure for something that didn’t bother me much. I let the issue drop; it wasn’t like the pain was constant. I learned to live with it.

Since that time, and especially in the past six months or so, this lump in my belly has gone from hurting occasionally to hurting all the live-long day. In fact, it frequently takes my breath away when I stand quickly. Coughing makes me want to die. It wakes me up at night when I roll over. It hurts if I touch it. Don’t test me on this; I will not let you touch it. If you try, I will slap you and then kick you (the slap is for the inappropriate touching; the kick is because I told you: IT HURTS. The pain is not in my nether regions so much as it’s near my nether regions, but it’s still in the no-touchy zone. OKAY?).

Anyhoo…

I saw my regular doctor last month and mentioned that this pain has become nearly unbearable. We went through lots of possibilities: endometriosis, ovarian cysts, ectopic pregnancy, menopause (I hit her for that suggestion), and all sorts of other miserable sounding ailments. The symptoms fit none of those things. She decided it was a hernia, and it made sense because the lump is easier to feel when I’m standing than lying on my back, and the conditions under which it’s most painful fit the profile of a hernia. She referred me to a surgeon.

The surgeon said that although it could be a hernia, it probably wasn’t an incisional hernia because of its location (not close to the C-section incision). He ordered a CT scan so we could get a better idea. I appreciated him doing this rather than just randomly cutting into my tummy.

I went in for the CT on Monday this week. The tech was very nice but it was odd that he insisted on watching me undress. Note: CT tech husbands apparently take many liberties when their wives come in for scans. S’okay though; I put on a show for the whole department and afterward they gave me one of those stickers that says “I did a slow, seductive strip tease for my husband’s coworkers today!”

The surgeon reviewed the CT with me on Wednesday. (The pictures were really cool. The only other CT I’ve had was to look at my sinuses and it was super boring. Also, that same tech made me take off my pants that time. So weird.) The scan showed a mass of some kind on my abdominal wall. Neither the radiologist nor the surgeon knows exactly what it is, but say it definitely isn’t a hernia. They also assured me that it does NOT appear to be cancerous. They think it could be a hematoma or excessive scar tissue. Once removed, they’ll send it to a pathologist to find out exactly what it is. I bet that means I don’t get to take it home in a jar, huh? Sooo not fair. It’s mine, isn’t it?

Alright, so I want to get this over with as soon as possible, and even though they consider this “elective” and there’s no urgency, I managed to schedule the surgery for next Thursday. If all things go as they should, I’ll be discharged by evening. I won’t have general anesthesia but will probably be given enough of whatever in my IV to make me really sleepy and not too aware of what’s happening. I prefer not to be awake at all, but recovering from general anesthesia would suck.

The thing that made my heart beat a little faster—and not in a good way—is that the surgery is called “excision of abdominal wall tumor.” The surgeon never used the word “tumor” when we were talking about the possibilities of what this weird growth is, so it kinda freaked me out. Yes, I know many tumors are benign and nothing to be concerned about, but it was just a bit of a shock to see that word on the surgical order.

Kath, I know what you’re thinking: “It’s not a toomah!” But apparently it IS a toomah.

So that’s that. I didn’t want to blog about all of this until I had a better idea of what this is and when’s it’s all going to be resolved, so I apologize for holding out. This is a good time to remind you that—hard as it may be to believe, considering some of my blog topics—I do not write publicly about every single adventure in my life.

I’ll be writing again before Thursday, but probably not a whole bunch in the few days after. If I can teach Vic how to post here maybe he’ll let you know how the surgery goes. I should totally make him post pantsless, just to get him back for the awkward CT scans. Ha, nude blogging… oh never mind, he’d probably enjoy it.