Friday, July 22, 2011

Still Beautiful...and Ready For Liftoff!

So I spent all day, about 2 hours actually, signing paperwork, initialing here, signing there, etc. I did this paperwork shuffle at the surgeon's clinic right after they weighed me - apparently I was able to lose enough weight for the surgeon to perform the weight loss surgery I need to lose weight. I am aware of the fact that I have touched on that subject before, but the ironical symmetry is simply too appealing to pass up. Dr A and I talked for a little while, he informed me of the risks involved, small but very real risks, and he answered any questions I had. I asked him what they did with the section of stomach tissue they took out. He said he examines it, does a little slice and dice to see how healthy the tissue is, and then sends it to the Pathology Lab where they do the same thing, then they burn it. I was hoping I could bring it home, tan it like leather, and make a hat from it - that would just be so fucking cool, to have a hat made out of your own stomach tissue! If anyone ever accused me of having my head jammed in my ass, I could say, "Wrong! Close, but not quite!" {sigh} Oh well....

   I then made the trip to the hospital, another 15 miles east, and did the same thing all over again with the staff. The nurse in charge of the case sat me down, asked medical history questions, gave me some pre-op instructions, and made sure I could find the right wing of the place when I came back early monday morning. VERY early Monday morning. Like 0630 hours Monday morning Why in hell do surgeons always insist on doing surgery at such God-awful, cow-milking hours? I just don't get it. Why not do it at a decent hour, like 10:30 in the morning, instead of this crack-of-dawn crap? Hey, whatever, I'll be asleep anyway, so I guess it doesn't matter, but I'm just not a morning guy.

   So now, I wait, and I plan my last so-called "normal" weekend. (Seafood platter at a local place - I'll try not to over-do it.) I have no doubts, and very few, tiny little regrets, and I am 99% eager to do this...that 1% is screaming, a screechy irritating little voice wa-a-ay back in the back of my mind, "OH MY GOD!!!! They're gonna cut yer fuckin' guts out! AAUGHH!!" Yes, yes they are, and I can't wait to get it over with, and start in on my new life.

   There is actually a list of things I want to do in the next several months. I could put down that I'm going to climb Mount McKinley, go hang-gliding in Hawaii, dive the Great Barrier Reef, run the Boston Marathon - and it would all be utter bullshit. I have no unrealistic expectations. I'm going to walk on the beach, play catch with my daughter, take my son wade fishing (if he'll ever drag his ass back to the Coast), and start getting in shape for Pistol Competition and 3-gun matches. I want to go and do things that normal able-bodied people can do, and stop being a drag on my wife and my family. I know my darling bride plans activities based on whether or not I can walk that far, from the parking lot to the front gate, or similar concerns. She would never sign us up for a walking tour of the Old French Quarter, or a museum exhibit, because she wouldn't want to listen to my pathetic whining about all that walking...maybe in a few months time, she won't need to worry about that. I have no truly drastic plans, I just want to do ordinary stuff that ordinary people do. I haven't been ordinary in a long, long time.

On the other hand, I DO want to do THIS. ......Geronimo!

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