When I was in middle school I was part of this medical explorer group. I don't know why, maybe I was entertaining ideas of being a doctor or something? Maybe I wanted to get out of school. I can't remember. But I watched an open heart surgery and watched gross videos of medical procedures and thought they were super cool and did not suffer from near barfarooney at all.
Now that I am an old lady with a big lump in her back, I have turned into a giant baby. The doctor was explaining the incision to me (ew) and how they will cut it out (gross) and how, if it was big enough, they may have to pack the area...(gag from the depths of my soul, omg). I had to ask her to stop before I harfed. Such a baby. She assured me that the whole thing was no big deal.
And then, the night before this no big deal surgery I couldn't sleep and when I did I had weird stress dreams. Like, I got a job and Mitt Romney was my boss. Or that they removed it and it was full of hair and teeth and turns out I ate my twin in utero which I'm pretty sure I saw on Grey's Anatomy a few years ago so it must be totally a real thing that will happen to me. And when I woke up I had an 80's (90's?) commercial for Nintendo cereal stuck in my head. "Nin-ten-do, it's for breakfast now! Nin-ten-do, it's a cereal, wow!" All day. And that was the only part I knew so I just kept Rain Man repeating it to myself over and over.
(You can find anything on YouTube, I swear. Here is the commercial that burst forth from the vaults of my damaged brain.)
(Also, if you are thinking of trying to buy some of this 20 year old cereal, be prepared to pony up at least $200. )
So after my surgery my incision was covered up and the doctor told Mark it was Pretty Big. They sent the giant wad of fat and skin and other unknown grossness to pathology, although it is most likely just a cyst so I'm not trying to lead up to any kind of drama or anything. Two days later when I could remove the dressing I was greeted with this beaut:
|My promising career as a back model:|
And since nobody wants to hear you complain less then your kids, Olivia wanted me to acknowledge her horrible boo boo, here it is for your pity party participation:
|Her feet look jacked, too.|
Needs manicure at age 3.97
|No boo boos to report.|
She pretty much claps YAY for everything.
YAY BOO BOO!
I'm feeling pretty OK now though. It is still sore but I don't need any pain medication. It turns out that I will likely survive this very minor outpatient surgery after all. Now I need to stop blaming my recovery for my complete lack of effort in preparing for Olivia's birthday parties on Thursday (at school) and Saturday (at a bounce house) this week.
MY KID IS FOUR THIS WEEK. Plus there is the situation of this other baby who is crawling and standing and cruising and getting into everything she shouldn't because, hey, that's what babies do. I found Adelle in the kitchen poking the electrical outlet with her finger in apparent irritation at the childproofing she has to deal with. Olivia was like, "emergency! We have a situation here!"
It's rough around here, guys. And by rough I mean pretty cute and fun despite lack of sleep or ambition to party plan.