Tuesday, July 11, 2017

Hello Ire, My Old Friend. 

Finally, I snapped. 

It has been an extremely long journey of chillaxified good sportsmanshipping on my end. Really, really, really I have tried. (If I had a tattoo based on the last 3 years, it might say Roll With It-altho it might say something completely different so don't quote me.) Until this morning.

I went for my pre-op rama-lama-ding-dong appointment at 10:00. Don't you want to be fifteen minutes early? asked P.? 
Nope, said me. 

The hallway is like ice. The pre-op waiting area is stuffy and crowded with people draped everywhere like New Orleans after a flood. There's a board on the wall-like at an airport. Lots of jibber jabber. Why do some people feel the need to fill the air with words? I'll never understand. 

They call me in. I have to Sign Things. They want some money paid toward my balance. That seems fair under the circumstances. I get a paper bracelet. I choose my religion. I go with 'other'. I can't remember what I picked last time. P-the man I met through a personal ad in an alternative weekly newspaper is The Chosen One which strikes me as ridiculous in the cosmic scope of things and his official designation is now 'boyfriend'. I remember last time I cared a lot about this designation. Now, not at all. 

After a bit of a wait, I get called into this weird room.Check it out. It's so poorly designed, they have to set the phone on the floor. I took this photo because they offer a regular chair and a giant chair and I never want to have to sit in the giant chair. 
As you can see, in my fabulous bag, I am packing a library book. 

A crooked man leads me in and weighs me and takes my vitals. I try to engage him in conversation about his crocs because it's just weird and awkward in this little room. When he leaves he says, Good Luck and don't worry. You're in good hands. 

Later a woman enters. I know her from the first time. She has to ask lotta, lotta questions from off the computer. The best one is, would you like the chaplain to say a prayer for you? I say, sure. (Along the lines of, would you like some fresh black pepper? only churchier) She gives me a time-which doesn't sound like the time I had imagined in my head. Get there at 8:30.  Start at 10:00. I wanted to start at 8:30. Those are my most brightest, most alert hours. I don't want to spend them being anxious, dammit. 

More, more, more waiting. In (finally) comes the nurse/anesthesiologist. I've massaged a bunch of these women. They have the magical powers of an anesthesiologist but not the paycheck. Tough gig, I think. She needs to look down my throat and check my lungs and ask me questions and oh yeah, draw my ire. Lucky her.

My phone rings. It's the hematologist's nurse. I can't really hear her, but she wants me to come Friday to talk to the hematologist. Uhhh I say, I don't think I can make it. Maybe next Friday? Yeah maybe. I'll call you. Because we are decidedly OVER the hematologist. 

Back to the nurse. Did you stop your blood thinners. Yes I stopped them Saturday night. That was too soon, she said. 

Look, said me, in my most I HAVE HAD IT WITH THIS BULLSHIT voice. The hematologist called and said "stop the blood thinners three or four days before the surgery" and "I'll call you tomorrow" and she never did. I'm really getting sick of this nonsense. 

The nurse/anesthesiologist replies. "In the report, it says one or two days."

Yeah says me? Well, that's on you. 


She finished her notes and left the room. Someone else came and I said I could leave. And that-as they say-was that. 


I did some fast errands(scored P some dollar store candy bars for tomorrow) and came home to a frosty bottle of what the surgeon called "Mag Citrate". I put myself on a sort of a clear liquid/tons of fluids extravaganza this afternoon because when they go for a vein tomorrow, I want them to find one. 

One of my many bosses, when I was leaving for the last time before this surgery said something really offhand like, You look like you're talking care of yourself. And I was like, uhhwhat? Not in a 'golly what a charming thing to point out' way but in a 'what is THAT supposed to mean' kind of thing but I realize, all the nonsense has served as a delightful distraction when I needed one the most. 

This was on my Chicken and Stars soup tonight. 
I think it's a positive omen. 

Thanks in advance for your positive mojo. See you soon. 

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