It’s just over 36 hours to my surgery, so you bet you’re gonna hear about it:
You might recall that I have remarked to the effect that only a team of wild horses could keep me from going to the North Texas Irish Festival this year.
I need to update that list: “Wild horses or tumor surgery”.
I am so ticked. In January I thought there was no way I’d still have pneumonia over a month later.
As time went on, though, and tests were ordered, and more tests were ordered, and surgery was deemed necessary, my ray of hope got progressively dimmer, until now it is snuffed out entirely.
Not only will I not be attending the festival this weekend, I probably won’t even be fully conscious.
I won’t even see the local news reports.
Shoot. Of all the freakin’ weekends, this tumor has to kill my Old World holiday, the time of year that I put life in perspective.
Of course, the tumor and the surgery themselves are doing a pretty good job of giving me perspective too …
But they don’t come with funnel cakes and Irish jigs.
We had a hospital of choice, because it’s closer to where we live, and we’ve heard so many good things about it from people who have had surgery there. The surgeon does do surgery there, but he was surprised that we wanted to, because our primary care physician — the one who started all these tests and found the tumor — doesn’t “have privileges” there, and wouldn’t be able to visit me.
We weighed this factor, and decided that as long as the surgeon, would be checking on me, and there was a full medical staff, we’d take our chances on the superior (and more convenient) hospital over have our regular doc. We also checked with our primary, and he was okay with it.
The surgeon agreed, and we scheduled the surgery … then today the surgeon’s office called, saying that he said we couldn’t have surgery where my primary couldn’t check on me, and that we’d have to go to the hospital about which we had heard discouraging words, and which was a half-hour round trip further for my wife to drive.
A surgeon with memory loss: Not a good sign.
So we both called back and appealed the decision, and we prevailed.
Yeah, we had just been thinking, We’re not experiencing enough stress — if only someone would call and jerk us around!
I have my pre=op testing tomorrow, so I’m taking the rest of the day to prepare and rest.
So today at work I had to get ready for my job to be vacant for maybe as long as six weeks, and now my desk is cleaner than it’s been in years.
I also took the opportunity to throw away a bunch of junk that’s been under my desk for way too long.
It just so happened that this was also the last day in our old building for half of our Inventory department, and all of Vickie‘s department, and Soon-to-Retire Boss.
Everyone else will be following them to the new building over the next couple of months, but for now it’s probably going to be strange, especially in the front office, where about half of us are going to be gone.
It will especially take some adjustment for them to get used to my absence: They’ll have to bring in a temp to get on everyone’s nerves.