Forty-eight hours until surgery and I am lying flat on my back with Vick's spread all over my chest and neck and stuffed in my nose. This is not a good sign.
I woke up yesterday morning with a tickle in my throat and it has progressed. At work today I was sneezing so much that a coworker surprised me by running to the store to get me a box of Kleenex and a half gallon on orange juice. She felt bad because she thinks she gave it to me.
I'm not sure.
I don't really feel bad but its in my nose and moving ever so slowly down to my chest. I am sure that isn't a good sign - just before surgery.
I called the surgeon's office and left a message to see how it effects my surgery - if it does at all. I have yet to get a call back.
I have been asked a few times lately if I am nervous and the truth is I haven't had one nervous thought. Perhaps I am living in denial as to the severity of the situation but I have never lived on what ifs and whys.
The fact is I have colon cancer. So what? I'm relatively young and in good health until I am told otherwise, and even then I doubt that it will have much effect on how I live my life.
As I have said all along, this is a bump in the road. I have been fortunate not to have had many major bumps up to this point. Others endure so much more than I have that I can't feel sorry for myself.
People live each day not knowing where they will find their next meal or where they are going to sleep. Some don't know the love and support I do and walk through life alone.
I am constantly reminded that I am surrounded by the love of my family and friends.
Thursday afternoon is going to come and go and I am going to wake up in the recovery room and scream my head off for morphine. Give me that damn drip and make it drip often. To all those reading that will be visiting me in the hospital, I am instructing you now - I expect you to automatically hit the morphine drip button for me when you walk in the door. No need to kiss me and hug me - just hit the f-ing morphine drip button. It will make me much happier to see you.
I am a big baby when it comes to pain and I don't even know what pain is - other than when I broke my arm in three places running down the sidewalk in New York City after a night of over indulging. Even that pain I don't remember now but I do recall waking up in the morning crying like a baby.
I am warning everyone right now - expect that I am a wimp. Hell, I bitch about the pain from my feet. Its a damn good thing I cant get pregnant because I wouldn't handle it so well. It definitely would not be pretty.
Oh - and if anyone really wants to make points - bring me a damn margarita. That will help with the pain too, and the DTs. On second thought, maybe that isn't such a good idea.