By this time tomorrow, I will be lying on a table and a surgeon will be brandishing his scalpel. I imagine that it comes in a neat little robin’s egg blue box like the one I had in college. I hope that his, in contrast to mine, is properly disinfected.
By this time tomorrow I will know what it’s like to have an IV in my neck (Right??!? Apparently they can’t use my chest port since they need a way to get high volumes of blood in fast, in case they need to.) and possibly try to astral-project myself into the kids’ classrooms while I’m under anesthesia, just to say hi and pay attention because I’m watching you.
But today, I’m getting ready. I’m going to do the last run I’ll do for a while, eat a giant breakfast, and then embark on a bowel cleanse. I’m setting expectations with the organs that are staying that something unusual is about to happen, but that they need to get a grip and step up. Also, I need to figure out how to get Post-It notes inside with friendly reminders like “Don’t forget to put the intestines back!” and “Bowels are like vowels — they’re important!”
So just a few things I wanted to pass along. First, thank you for all your pre-surgical messages of encouragement and prayers. I’m sorry if I don’t get to respond to all of you in advance, but know that I receive and treasure your messages. I can’t imagine that anyone could go into this in a better situation than I.
Secondly, thanks for your concern and requests to be notified of updates. Sacha is going to update the blog tomorrow when I come out of surgery. I would expect an update maybe around early to mid-evening Pacific time, since we’re told to that the surgery will run all day.
Finally, I’m going to borrow a phrase from a friend and say that I send you all oceans of love.