Port, out! Awoke at the hairline fracture of dawn to get to the surgery center by 6:15. It was no problem, as I am all full of warm and fuzzy feelings for my fellow LA ex-pat surgeon and his professed love of all things Cantonese. And there is no way I can behave curmudgeonly when my favorite man takes the day off to be at my beck and call. I know he's dedicated when he's actually conscious and ready to go before I am. Did he even sleep?? I wish he was more relaxed; the procedure was described as under thirty minutes and something I could transport myself home from. Hey, just install a drive-thru window, equip a latte machine, and we're good to go.
- Local anesthesia - i.e. repeated poking by a sharp object until you don't say ouch anymore
- Port extraction - something like a tooth extraction, per the doctor
- Cauterization - he's barbequing
- Suturing - he questions aloud if it's monocryl, and I feel its raggedy texture
FYI, surgeons, quit with the running commentary when your patient is awake. Yea, I don't want to hear how the procedure is "easier said than done" while you're struggling in my vein.
Afterwards, breakfast (an event so rarely shared with husband), movie, and world cup. Nice day eh?
I'mma space bound rocketship!
