Are you folks up for another somewhat obnoxious post about doctors appointments and irrational fear?
Good, cause here it comes.
This afternoon I have a pre-screening for the surgery, which is two weeks from today. I guess that means I am going to meet with the anesthesiologist and he/she’s going to calculate how much knock out juice it’s going to take to put my gigantic king-kong sized ass out for 90 minutes or so. I’m guessing whatever it is they’ll use, it’s going to take a lot.
The timing is going to be funky. The hospital is 24 minutes away and they had to reschedule the appointment for 30 minutes after I get out of work. I’m going to have to split the second after my sick time kicks off. We’re going to be cutting it close.
After that I think I need to get my haircut because if I don’t I’m going to look like Cousin It come surgery day.
On the cellar front, fingers crossed the floor is wrapped up today. We have some furniture being delivered over the weekend. We don’t need everything to be finished by then, but it would make things easier. If everything works out, I may have an office to work from down there by next week. Just in time to go away for a month.
Am I freaking out? Maybe a little. I would say on a scale from 1-100 my freak out level is about a 33 and slowly but steadily increasing.
Duck and cover, kids.
Inside the Red Head's Head 