Can you start the IV drugs now, please?

Fact: When you get up at 4:15 in the morning, you eat lunch at 10am and dinner at 4:45pm.

This must be why Cracker Barrel was full of spry seniors enjoying a leisurely dinner at 4:45. They eyed us suspiciously wondering we were doing there, busting up their secret dinner spot. And it was very low key. Laid back. Senior-ish. I don’t think I’ve ever been to a Cracker Barrel that wasn’t hustling and bustling and now I know why. I usually go when the other young’uns go. Maybe the early hour was to blame for why it took so dang long for the food to come. Maybe the aged don’t care about speediness. They just don’t want the kids jumping around talking about that hip hop music. But Ryan and I needed macaroni and cheese and we needed it RIGHT THEN.

My sister-in-law had surgery yesterday (which explains why we got up so early). It was a scary situation for her and we all hoped for a decent outcome. A good outcome wasn’t really presented as a likely option, so we all hoped for decent. As she was waiting to go in, the anesthesiologist came in and told her that she would administer some liquid courage before they took her into the operating room, you know, to help matters. The good, no GREAT news is – the outcome was wildly fabulous and wonderful. We all cried for joy and breathed a collective sigh of relief (sine we had all been holding our breath since June) for Leslie. God indeed answers prayers.

I admire Leslie a great deal. I also admire how she has handled this whole “surgery” scenario since the beginning. She might disagree, but I think she’s quite brave. She faced this situation head on and handled it with grace and the exact right amount of strength. I wonder if I will handle it the same way? (Secret message to Internet: No, I will not handle this the same way. At all. I will be crazy and overreact and freak out at every turn.) Remember this and this and this? Well, the situation has not gotten better, and I’m now scheduled for surgery on February 1st.

The reason I haven’t disclosed the nature of my distress is because I’m not all Dooce’d and uninhibited about things of this nature. So let’s just say that I’m having Lady Surgery and leave it at that. The truth is, I’m ok and it’s outpatient surgery and “procedure” would probably be a better description. But that doesn't change the fact that I'll be put under and I'll have an IV and there will be sharp objects applied to my flesh. Also, there are unknowns and I hate the unknown. I also hate being pricked and sliced. And diced. I’m also emotionally spent from six+ months of unexplainable trauma to my person. My person is tired! My person wants answers! My person thinks surgery is a terrifying (yet needed) option!

I need some liquid courage as I’m scared...to...death