The call came in today.
We have a date. January 19 is supposedly when the guava and I part ways in our non-amicable split. I won't be sorry in the least; between the pain and the vertigo the little shit's been a lousy roommate.
I get to add more panic, though. They are doing this OUTPATIENT. Really? This is my head and I don't even get one night of observation? That kind of freaks me out. Of course, it's cheaper -- and given I only have my share quoted from one doctor and it's already four figures, maybe I should just hush. We're going to lose at least two weeks of my paycheck as is, probably more, and I don't know what we're going to do about that.
So apparently today's theme is 'stop worrying about the date of the surgery and start worrying about everything else.'
I think that's actually a positive sign. It says this is fairly routine and they don't expect complications. If something unexpected comes up, they will hold you overnight. But I think you should be heartened by the news.
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