Today's Top 10!

The top ten reasons why waiting in pre-op sucks:

10) Paper gowns. Enough said.
9) Drab decor. Can I get Tim Gunn in here? There's more beige than at a Carmel housewife sex encounter group.
8) Fluorescent lights only slightly less bright than the sun.
7) Footie socks whose sizes lie. If that was XXL, I'm Joseph Gordon-Levitt.
6) Still more damn paperwork.
5) An utter lack of breakfast or fluid.
4) The shoulder seams on this damn gown make me look like a butch Joan Collins. Or Joan Crawford.
3) Nurses who are cheerful at 6:15.
2) Needles.

And the number one reason why waiting in pre-op sucks:

1) No complementary open bar.

T minus three days.

I am now officially checked into Club Med. My last day at work was yesterday, and it went as well as could be expected; a lot of people hugged me, at least one person started crying, and I got a good bottle of wine to drink when I am recovered to go with the couple of good bottles of beer. I got everything done I needed to get done, had a discussion with the owner about some projects to start when I return, and shuffled off to medical leave.

I'm kind of in a neutral space right now. Scared, yet wanting to get going. However, I missed something that is making these last few days an absolute pain in the ass.

I HURT.

I had to go off all medications that can cause blood thinning a week before surgery. That includes -- yes, I'll bet most of you can see this coming -- two-thirds of my arthritis medications. I am bent over like a question mark and moving like a snail under three Gs right now. I'm laughing at it on some level; who would have thought the worst thing three days before brain surgery would have been my knees and hands? Yet, there it is; I'm trying to supplement with Tylenol, but treating my pain with Tylenol is like trying to stop a runaway train with a wet tortilla.

After all of last week's various consultations, I should be home from the hospital sometime Friday. I have a committee of dear friends staying with me the next week so Beth can get some work done. We'll see how it goes after that; the doctors think I can go back to work after three weeks, at least in some capacity. Next week, though, I should look like I lost a bar fight to Chewbacca and The Thing. I'll post photos so you can laugh now and I'll laugh later, once the memory of the pain has faded.

Tales of Pre-Op, Part One.

I had my first pre-op today and my hospital pre-admission. On the whole, it went well -- and here are a few details for those who are interested.

* Surgery is at 730am, Tuesday, January 19. It is expected to last between three and six hours, after which I will be taken to recovery and then to ICU. I will spend the first night in ICU, and then two or three nights in the hospital after that barring any complications. I will have staples in my head. (There's a joke there somewhere, I just can't come up with it right now.) I will then be recovering at home for somewhere between three to six weeks, depending on how things go.

* So if you're scoring at home, I will be held together with staples and super-glue.

* After surgery, no lifting over five pounds or driving until cleared by my neurosurgeon. The earliest that can be is my first post-op on February 1.

* I have great bulldog.

* Oh, you want an explanation for that? Man, you guys want everything. :) I have a good anterior underbite (I think that's what the anesthesiologist said). This is important in case I need intubated. I also have a loose neck and a big throat. (Insert joke two. Can't come up with that, either. I'm slow tonight.)

* I have to quit taking my anti-inflammatories immediately, which includes the Veltoran ointment for my hands. This, to use a technical term, is going to SUCK. There is not enough Tylenol on the planet to make the next week a happy place.

* My HR professional at work told me that if my work tries to contact me to ask a question before I'm getting paid again, I am not to answer the phone. I got gently lectured about taking care of myself. Yay, her.

* I got X-Rayed, EKGed, phlebotomized, instructed, peered at, fussed over, and generally provided with lots of information today. Nobody asked me for money.

* That's Wednesday.

Slightly less stress and a call for help.

In which our faithful correspondent, armed only with a can of 903 Sasquatch Milk Stout, provides his readers with a news update.

* Meeting at work went well. My job duties? Meet the new job, same as the old job. My formal job description contains exactly what I'm doing now; it's just written in formal HR language. So much for THAT. I was stressing about nothing.

* We have worked out some payment arrangements with at least one of the up-front medical expenses.

* However, Beth's car chose this moment to have its heater decide to have a meltdown. Thank you, Mister Car Repair Expense. (Bastard.)

Nevertheless, things are a bit calmer. Still having a lot of physical stress reactions, but I have a call in to my neurosurgeon to see if we can deal with that.

Meanwhile, I need to ask y'all some favors.

First off, for you in-town folks, we are tentatively looking for people to come sit with me the week of January 25th. At this point, we don't know what days we'll seen company for me, because we don't know what days I will be home from the hospital and what days Beth will have to be at work. But if you are available and would like to spend the day with me that week while I'm loopy on hard pain meds, this is your chance!

Secondly, for you out-of-town folks, please check out the 'How You Can Help' link off to the right. We still need a lot of help in terms of certain material things while I'm out; we will be down an income for at least four weeks. If you can pitch in, it would be appreciated.

And a thank you.

And I want to thank the police department of Normal, Illinois. They took the time to talk to a fretting older brother and let him know his sister was OK. (It had to be one of the weirdest calls they'd gotten that day. "Did you arrest my sister?")

Dammit, I'm trying to be positive here.

I really am. And I feel like the last few posts have been an unending flow of negativity.And today, I wanted to talk about the fact that despite my apprehensions, I managed to be pretty chipper. I had a delightful evening last night. I was chairdancing at work. I managed to smile a few times. I have been Getting Things Accomplished.

And reality just keeps fucking with me and mine.

We are an estimated $4000 in the hole this month alone on medical bills. I can't even afford to get a will or a medical power of attorney written.

My sister decided to have a mental health issue today, and was carried off to the hospital today in Normal, IL. I still don't know what happened, or how she is; I only know what happened because the police told me she'd been picked up.

Tomorrow is the meeting at work where I find out who's covering for me and what my long-term job duties will be, and my anxiety is using this opportunity to beat me up repeatedly. I'm also having my first really bad -- like gut-clenching, nauseating bad -- moments of fear around surgery.

Elisabeth has a horrible migraine.

I just feel like there's some universal piling-on going on today, and it pisses me off. Which, of course, gives me a headache. Which I hardly need help with, really.

I have given a lot, I think, over the last few years. I'm just in a space now where I need something given to me. Universe, you listening?

Ups and downs.

T-16 days, and I have been moody.

(Can't imagine why.)

Some days I'm good, able to deal with people, optimistic, outgoing. Some days I'm damn near in tears. I came to the realization the other day how much effort I have put into putting on a brave public face; when I told my vendors at work that I had a brain tumor, several of them responded with 'I would not have known you were sick'. Well, I guess that was my intention; but I realized how much emotional energy that cost me, and how perhaps in retrospect I burned too much candle maintaining a normal public face. It's water under the bridge now; I have ten days of work left, two of which are only half days because of pre-op appointments. Wednesday, I sit down with my boss and the head of HR and define who's covering for me and what my job requirements are going to be when I come back.

Did I mention that my company is currently going through corporate adolescence and developing some more organized HR procedures? Guess who has two thumbs and gets to have a job description first?

So past this week, the timetable gets more organized. Monday the 11th is my pre-op with Dr Kemper, the lead brain surgeon, and all the pre-op testing at Seton. (Gods only know what that involves. I know there's a clotting test, which sounds fearfully like Sam Peckinpah's "Salad Days".) I will be asking him if I have to shave my head. If I do, I go have my barber do it either Monday or Tuesday. Photos will be posted for the morbidly curious.

Wednesday the 13th is my preop with Dr Durairaj, my optical surgeon, when we find out if we have to drop over a thousand dollars up front to him. That's the scariest part of the week, as far as I'm concerned.

Friday the 15th is my last day at work, which I'm sure will be either maudlin or utterly ignored. I'm placing bets with myself on which it will be.

Monday the 18th I'm considering spending drunk. Or in bed. Or both.

Tuesday the 19th is my ritual trepanning.

Whee.