Yup, tomorrow. 5am.
My phone rang at about 9pm tonight and I didn't recognize the number, so in true Me Fashion, I didn't pick up. Probably a gig, or some weirdo. Or both.
It was my surgeon (the chopper, not the builder)! Left me a lovely message in his style - telling me to get some rest (if only he knew!), and that he was looking forward to tomorrow and he promised to get rest himself. DEFINITELY more important for him to sleep. And to call him if I needed anything. And that he's looking forward to starting our journey tomorrow. Wow. That's old school. Makes me feel better. I know he does this because he loves helping those of us with wicked breasts that try to kill us.
I'm not ready. I have slept perhaps a total of 30 hours in the past month. Last night I got a whopping 2. And not from nerves, but lack of opportunity. The avalanche of work will come in handy as my income dwindles during recovery, and the boost of being seen in such high profile positions will help sustain my career over the course of my travels from "SHIT! THIS HURTS!" to "Hey, I dig this whole watching movies all day vibe". But of course, in true Me fashion, I've been getting a bevy of calls for work in the future. It's been difficult to juggle, who do I tell, who do I say yes to... but I'm managing to keep my head straight. I think!
My daughter and I shared cupcakes before her dad picked her up for the night. I worry about her schoolwork while I'm down. In fact, she asked if she could do some of her homework tonight at his place, and I said no. She said I should give her a chance. I asked what happens when she does the homework there, and she honestly answered that she doesn't get it done. So, what chance am I supposed to give her at this point? Really... him. I think she heard the words and realized. Went back to work. When her dad picked her up, I reminded her to wear her track gear to school tomorrow, and to make her lunch. Her dad: "Since when does she make her lunch?" Me: "She's 11, she can make a sandwich and pack a snack". Her dad: "Nobody told me!"
This is what I deal with. I joke often that if it were up to him, she'd be drinking from a bottle and wearing diapers. Sadly, it may be the truth.
So, there's incentive to heal quickly enough to have her back and run the homework bus as I do. Husband is wonderful at that, sometimes better than I am, definitely more patient. But I don't want her to see me in pain. So - I'm really hoping to feel better faster, and get my acting chops tip top so I can fake it 'til I make it kind of vibe. For her. And me. And my guy. Really, everyone wins if I don't feel like ass.
So, I'll pack my little hospital bag now. Not bringing much - they warn you not to. I guess a change of clothing, some toiletries, and a book. I can have hubby get me stuff and/or carry around more valuable items, of course. The question is wedding rings. I feel lost without. Maybe I'll just have him carry them in his bag, but that makes me nervous. The last thing we need is to lose a breast AND wedding rings!
It's surreal to think that tomorrow at this time I will be awake (theoretically) and without my leftie. The old girl was good to me - fed my daughter for 9 months (the right was really a waste, but maybe that's why she's cool now?) It's always hard to say goodbye to a friend, but I sure wish they could take the stretch marks away, too! Oh well, if the stitching looks weird, I plan on tattooing (I hear I'll be numb enough to not care about the needle). I giggle at the thought of having the word "Fake" written on it. Something dorky. But, maybe I'll just want her to look like a breast. I have time to decide. For now, let's get this shit out of me and take an amazing extended nap. Will I be hungry for dinner tomorrow? I sure as hell won't want hospital food. And, upon the advice of a friend, I've packed prunes. These hospitals - sometimes they just want proof that you can take a dump and they hit the "eject" button. I don't want to leave until I'm ready, but at the same time, dealing with my daughter's surgeries, I know the hospital is no place to feel better. All the beeping, moaning, needles... it's just too much. Inhumane. Give me my bed, the netflix on the ipad, a few good books, some pain meds, and snuggly cats (good Lord, I hope they don't pop my damn expanders with their claws!)
My head is so dizzy at the moment. It's 10:51. I planned on eating and drinking until midnight, when I need to stop all that stuff, but damn, I'm tired. I'm really dehydrated though, so maybe I'll just load up on water and hit the bed. Across town at 5am. That means I have to get up at ass o'clock. Hubby too, and he's out late tonight working. I sure hope he gets some rest tomorrow, but I know he won't.
One of the worst things is thinking of my daughter and hubby worried. We had to alert the teachers, to help us look for any behavior that says she's distressed. But really, what will help her is if I'm home, we can watch movies or maybe even play video games, and order sushi. I need to man up (the loss of a breast will help that along) and do this like she does her surgeries. I mean, the girl never even wants regular tylenol. We'll see how it goes for me... I'm hoping that apple/tree theory kicks in and I find a huge set of balls in my spirit.
Deep breath.
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