I was in the middle of writing a touching, gut-wrenching post when my power went out. I don't have it in me to recreate it, so you'll have to wait for that one.

My birthday has been pretty nice, all things considered. Went to church this morning, saw friends who had moved away. They adopted a little girl from China, and she has grown up so beautiful in just a few short months. We sang this hymn, which we also sing at every baptism (Lutherans are a singing bunch - all the mass parts are sung, the psalm is chanted, and there are about 5 hymns throughout the service). Everytime we sing it, I (along with just about every woman in the congregation - and quite a few men) end up crying. Today was no exception, and I think there may even have been a few more tears than usual, given the day.

After chatting with friends for a few minutes after church, I finally went to see Spiderman 3. It wasn't as good as the first two, but it wasn't bad. There were a few, subtle moments that hinted at the deeper themes that have always been present in the Spiderman saga (and I have read the comics, watched the cartoons in all their incarnations, and even loved Spidey on The Electric Company.), that of masks and identity and knowing your darker side and facing it.

But can I just tell you that there were a whole bunch of parents who brought kids to that movie who had no business being there? I'm not talking about 10-year olds (though I even think it was a little old for them) I'm talking kids under six. That's just irresponsible. There was a lot of violence and scary moments. Even if they were too busy kicking the back of my chair and asking their parents what was going on to absorb what was going on, they shouldn't have been there.

After the movie, I got my oil changed. I really only wanted to get the oil changed so I could get the air conditioning charged at the same time, but the place didn't do air conditioning on the weekend. It didn't really matter, though, because as I was driving home, I discovered that my air conditioning hadn't been working because the button wasn't pushed in. Yeah, I felt stupid. I'm pretty sure my compressor needs to be replaced, still, but at least I won't melt, though.

My tolerance for heat this year is worse than it has been. Don't know if that is related to my thyroid or not. We hit 90 for the first time this weekend. That pretty much means 90% of the days between now and November will be in the 90's. Don't know if I can take that for the whole summer.

Speaking of my thyroid, I discovered at church that singing hurts.

I am still a little concerned. I may just be getting a cold, or I may have overdone things, but I seem to have more congestion, and my cough is worse. Can't decide if I need to do anything about it, and which doctor I should contact. Is it a surgical consequence? Is it just a respiratory infection?

Oh, and when it rains a little bit here on a day like today, when it is hot and humid and miserable, you get the feeling you have entered hell. The sidewalks steam, you can actually see the air, and it feels like walking through glue. I like Baton Rouge, but I hate summer here. I have a feeling I'm going to hate it even more this year.

Sigh

I'm 36 Now

Just thought you should know.

My Saturday didn't go quite as planned. I had planned to see Spiderman 3, but it didn't work out. I woke up feeling really icky this morning, and I just couldn't get going. Guess those two whole days of sitting at my desk instead of sitting on my couch were too much for me. Sigh.

I seem to have some swelling on the right side of mt neck. I'm a little concerned. I see the surgeon again a week from Wednesday, so I guess I'll ask him then.

Speaking of the surgeon, he charged over $12,000 to take out my thyroid. A two hour operation, where he didn't see me before or after. I want a gig where I make $6000 an hour.

Anyhow...Saturday. Instead of the movies, I went to Target. I bought a purse that isn't horrible (it's a little smaller than I would like, but nice), a tote bag that is cute but impractical, a necklace that matches the earrings I bought a couple weeks ago (the necklace was out of stock then) and three headbands. I discovered that I can't wear the wrap-type bands because mt head is too flat in the back and they won't stay on. That makes me sad because the prettiest one was that kind. I also discovered that my head is freakishly short, and the other kind are too long and hurt my ears. Sigh. But they look really cute - and isn't that all that matters?

I tried to buy a bottle of wine, too, but the checker was under 25 and wasn't allowed to ring alcohol. What a stupid law. The manager was taking forever to come scan the wine, and I finally said to forget about it.

Oh, and an awful lot of mothers in Baton Rouge are going to be getting crappy gifts tomorrow. Cheap jewelery, ugly purses, and stuff you can buy in Walgreen's at 10 p.m. seem to be the order of the day.

So today, in honor of the beginning of my 37th year outside my mother's womb. I shall go to the movies after church, then I shall write about why Mother's Day makes me sad-happy.

Oh, and I shall soon be reviving my presidential campaign in earnest. I want to repeat that I was the first candidate to officially declare, exactly one year ago today (Check my archives if you want the link to my campaign blog - I'm too lazy to link). I shall soon be sharing my radical new tax/budget plan, and my plan to fix public schools. I delayed my campaign intentionally, because I realized that 18 months before the election year is really too early to innundate the public with campaign rhetoric. Even now, 7 months before, is a bit much. I wish someone would share that with my fellow candidates. The voting public is going to end up with campaign fatigue, and that's not a good thing.

I don't feel so good today. Returning to work is not such a good thing so soon, I guess. But the doctor gave me the go-ahead, and we are short staffed (still), so I did. It took a lot of me yesterday, though.

Last night I had issues with my throat feeling...tight. Not closed, but slightly swollen, especially when I laid down. Don't know what that's about.

Oh well. Back to the grindstone.

So I realized today just how much better I feel already. I can feel a real difference in my neck (as in I can feel that something is missing in a good way - it is smaller), and I can tell the difference when I swallow. It's even easier to breathe, something I didn't realize was a problem.

Now, I know I'm not 100% yet - my incision still hurts, and I seem to have some congestion in my throat. My wrists are killing me from the failed IV's, and my one hand keeps falling asleep - probably a combination if the bruising and the calcium issues. Still, though, I feel really good.

I've been experimenting a little bit with eating while I've been home. I find that if I eat my major meal of the day around 2, which is my usual lunch time at work, then eat a small breakfast and dinner, and a few tiny snacks in between, I feel much better. I guess it's just a matter of keeping my blood sugar on an even keel. That will be much harder to do at work since I tend to get stuck in 4 hour meetings on a regular basis, but it's worth a try.

I put a whole quilt sandwich together today. Granted, it is only for a wall hanging, but I've never gotten this far before. I'm kind of proud of myself. Now all I have to do is quilt it.

Last night, I watched the Saturday Night Live special about the 90's years, since the results of The Amazing Race allowed me to keep my TV. I determined that no matter when that time was, whenever you personally were in college is when SNL was at it's best. I hear the kids around here talking about how hilarious Horatio Saenz and Jimmy Fallon are, and I just don't get it. They can't deliver a line to save their lives, and the keep cracking up during sketches. They can't hold a candle to Phil Hartman, Dana Carvey, Mike Myers, and even Victoria Jackson. There is just something about being 18-25 taht makes SNL perfect.

Finally, happy birthday to TG, who entered the world 359 days before me. Enjoy 37, man (well, woman). I wish I could find a brown and cream linen bag at Target. I was looking for a new purse there today, and I couldn't find anything reasonable. It was all way to trendy without simultaneously being cute. I did, however, buy some glasses that match my dishes (fingers crossed - I've ony broken one so far, and it was just a mug. Granted they spend the first 6 months of their time in my presence in the freezer, but that's a story for another time.). And I ran into my pastor and his wife. I felt a little guilty for not telling them about my surgery, but he was in Germany, and I only got to talk to her for a minute on the Sunday before.

So, here's what is too much to do on day 4 after surgery:

Taking out a really heavy bag of trash (had to be more than 25 pounds), having it break halfway to the car (which is half as far as the dumpster) having to go back to the apartment to get new trash bags, cleaning up the trash, finally getting it thrown away, going to the store, and taking a two-hour drive.

Sigh.

I'm not good at being laid up.

Oh, and the end of my digestive system woke up today! I did not have a pleasant morning and early afternoon! My delicate bits are kinda raw. Sorry for the overshare, but it is my blog.

In other news, today is my dad's birthday. He would have been 81, 45 years and 8 days older than yours truly. He wasn't a perfect man, but he was a good man, and I miss him.

There are a lot of important days for my family in early May. I graduated college on May 8th, the first on my mom's side to do so (and still the only, actually). My mom's brother and closest cousin both have bithdays on May 9th. And my birthday is on the 13th. Plus Mother's Day is stuck in there, too.

My arms hurt. The heavy lifting was just too much for my bruises. I was going to write about geese, but alas, that will have to wait until tomorrow.

Happy...Day.

So just in case you are wondering, three days later is too soon to drive to the store and walk around for awhile after thyroid surgery. But I really wanted waffles for dinner, and I had no better. no syrup. no powdered sugar, and...no waffles. Oh, an I thought a Wildberry Tea Smoothie from CC's would make me feel better, too.

It was fine, but a little too soon. I'm tired now, and a little sore. And it didn't really improve my appetite like I was hoping. The smoothie was good, though.

On the plus side, I can tell a significant difference in how the stuff in my throat is working. My voice doesn't feel like it is straining whenever I talk anymore, I can swallow easier, and I even feel like I'nm breathing easier. Now if I can only get the coughing to stop, and manage to sit up for more than half an hour without my neck and shoulders cramping when they aren't supported...

Ok. The Post-Gazette keeps writing about hoew Pittsburghers eat more Ho-Hos per capita than any other city in the country.

No place in Baton Rouge carries Ho-Hos. Sure they have Blue Bunny Swiss Rolls, but not Hostess Ho-Hos.

I want a Ho Ho now. I'm not even craving chocolate yet. I want a real Ho Ho.

Sigh. I wish I could get comfortable to sleep. Even the good drugs don't seem to be helping.

I just took a shower. All the betadine is out of my hair. I feel human again. It looks like someone tried to slit my throat, bu hey! They did slit my throat. I have an incision that is about 6 inches in the middle of my neck right above the collar bone. I also have a lovely rash from the tape the used to cover the drain incision, and they won't let me put anything on it.

I'm bored. I'd go back to work tomorrow if I could keep my neck up unsupported for more than 15 minutes.

Sigh.

So, I survived my first hospital experience. And in honor of that, I figured I'd share all the icky details with you.

Got to the hospital a little after 10. The admissions person was originally from Latrobe. One of my friends from work waited with me unil they took me back to prep. They did blood pressure, temp, all that stuff, then they had me give a urine sample and change into a gown. You'll be glad to know I'm not pregnant.

The prep nurse asked all the standard questions, I told them I was sensitive to all adhesives except tegaderm, a fact they promptly ignored. he nurse tried twice unsuccessfully to start an IV before she gave up and called the anesthesiologist. The resident tried twice before the attending finally got it started. My arms and wrists are a mass of bruises today.

So, I told the CRNA that I was really nervous about the anesthesia and he tried to reassure me that once he injected the first drugs into the IV, I wouldn't care anymore. He was partially right. Itis just r=that it was so quick between them injecting me. moving me to the OR and sticking the mask over my face. The next thing I remember was being in recovery and asking what time it was (4:10). It seems to me that I did that a few times in a row. I remember asking for ice and water a few times, and the next ting I knew it was after 7. That's when I asked for a blanket. They told me sometime after that that I'd be spending the night in recovery because they didn't have any rooms available. A little while after that, my boss came to see me for a few minutes and brought flowers. I have the best boss ever.

A little while after he left, they moved me into a private room in the recovery room. It was very small, but very comfortable. The nurse was concerned that I hadn't had to pee yet, because I had been drinking water like mad. I think I apologized. She said not to be silly, and said that I was probably one of the easiest patients she had to deal with.

Well, around 2 a.m. they found a room for me, on an oncology unit. I don't want to think about what happened to allow a room to be available at that hour. They got me settled there, and around 3 a.m. I tried to pee and couldn't. I told the nurse that I felt dehydrated (my mouth was soooo dry), so she did a bladder scan, which was inconclusive. So she called the doctor on call, who told her to put in a catheter. She did (not fun at all at 4 a.m.) and they drained about 800 ccs of urine. So yeah, it was my problem. So they told me to keep drinking fluids, and kept the IV going, and told me i wouldn't be able to go home until I peed.

It was right around this time that my oxygen levels dropped a little bit, too, to around 90%. So I got to spend a few hours on oxygen as well.

The also kept moving the PCA thing (the stuff you use to give yourself pain medicine) out of my reach, and then they kept saying how suprised they were at how little pain medicine I was using. I promise that I would have been using more if I could have reached either that or the call button.

Between 8 and 9, everyone on earth was in my room. They brought breakfast, which was eggs and grits. I don't normally eat either, but I ate about half an egg. Just the thought of grits nauseates me. A volunteer brought a paper, another was checking on my satisfaction with the room (which was nicer than my apartment). The chaplain came in, a very nice Baptist minister. I told him I was going home that same day, but that I appreciated his offer to contact my church (even though my pastor is currently in Germany). Then the surgeon's PA came in (I never actually saw the surgeon while I was in the hospital). She asked a bunch of questions, and told me my calcium an potassium levels were a little low, so I would have to take Tums twice a day for a while, and eat bananas and drink orange juice for about a week (no hardship there). After all that, I drifted in and out, and they woke me up twice to take vitals. Then a co-worker came to visit on his lunch around 10:30. He visited for about 15 minutes, then a nursing student and instructor came in to take out a drain. He doesn't do well with icky stuff like that, so he left.

The drain was a whole 'nother adventure. I told her again that I was really sensitive to adhesive, and she ignored me and used big nasty adhesive on the gauze they put over the hole. So now I have a rash on my neck in addition to everything else. The nursing instructor told me it would only have to be there for a few hours, but it is still there. I have to call the surgeon's nurse to see if I can take it off, and she won't be in until 1, so I can't take a shower until then, and I really want to take a shower.

So then they brought lunch, which was a chicken wrap. It was good, but only ate the chicken and lettuce out of half of it. I tried to pee again, but again was unsuccessful.

My boss called a little while later. I told him they wouldn't let me leave until I could pee. Then I apologized for my inhibitions being a little too low. He laughed and said that hospitals have a tendency to do that. He told me to call when I'm able to leave. Not 15 minutes later, I managed to pee. it was a good thing, too, because right after I got back to bed, the nurse came in with another catheter. I just made it over the limit where she would have to cath me. I told my boss that from now on, his name shall be the Pee Whisperer.

So he and another co-worker came to get me and take me to the pharmacy and then home. We got to the pharmacy, dropped off the prescription, and I vomited. Got the door open just in time to not throw up all over his car. Threw up all over my shirt, though. I apologized about 30 times. I hate throwing up.

Instead of taking me to the store then to get juice, bananas and water, they took me home. He went and picked up the stuff last night (he lives less than a mile from me, as do half my coworkers) while I slept, and he called just before he got here. Then I ate some noodle soup (OK, I ate the noodles - the broth was a little too seasoned for me). Then I took a pain killer (I'm not in a lot of pain, but enough that I tend to wake myself up if I move, and I knew I needed to sleep). My bladder is definitesly awake now (I've had to pee a lot). I had a banana for breakfast, and some juice and Cheerios for lunch, and here I am.

So that was my surgery adventure. The staff at Baton Rogue General Bluebonnet is very nice and very professional (even if they forgot to tell me if I can take this dressing off. Even so, I really hope not to repeat this experience any time soon.

I'm alive!

I feel like crap, but I'm alive and home. Details much, much later.

Ok. True Confession Time!

I am scared shitless about this surgery tomorrow. I've never been under general anesthesia, and no matter how many times everybody tells me it will be OK, I'm still terrified.

I'm petrified that my voice is going to end up weaker, not stronger. The vocal nerves are literally right next to the thyroid. The single biggest risk of this surgery is vocal damage. People have always complemented my reading voice. It has been getting progressively weaker, an I'm scared it will be gone all together.

I'm really scared of being alone. I have no family here, and the friend I would normally depend on is 8 1/2 months pregnant. I hate burdening people with my troubles, and I hate being a burden in general.

I have no idea what to expect after this surgery. The surgeon was really abrupt, and his nurse or assistant, or whatever didn't really answer any questions. The internet was no help, either.

I know there are lots of people all over praying for me. I know my parents are joining their own prayers in heaven. I know I just need to put it in God's hands and trust Him. But having that knowledge and doing something with it are two different things.

Well, if you happen across my blog, and you think about it tomorrow around 1 p.m. Central, send a few prayers toward the staff at Baton Rouge General Bluebonnet. It can't hurt.

Six Weird Things

So the latest meme I've seen floating around is Six Weird Things About Me. Thought I'd give y'all some levity before my possible demise tomorrow (shut up - being convinced I'm going to die is actually helping me, in a weird and twisted way).

1. I absolutely cannot have fruit touching any other category of food in a meal. This is the last vestige of the "Oh my gosh, my corn juice is touching my mashed potatoes! I can't eat this!" phase of my youth. At one point in time, I wouldn't even eat mixed vegetables. But now, I just object to the use of fruit in salads, with meat, etc. I'll eat them at the same meal, but not mixed together in any way, shape, or form.
2. I cannot seem to have a complete set of dishes last for more than a week. I always break something right off the bat.
3. I don't have cable or satellite TV. Not terribly weird, I guess, but uncommon in this day and age.
4. I tend to get injured in really weird ways. In elementary school, I broke my foot while practicing the Mexican hat dance in a doorway (don't ask). In college, I broke the same foot, same bone even, while walking down the KH men's wing steps after going up to view the quasi-pornographic pictures one of my housemates graced the chalkboard with (the artwork was actually quite good, if you ignored the nudity and all). Later on, while working at a camp, I ran over that same leg with a 15 passenger van. Then, after graduation, I was working night shift at a bank, got up to get a batch work, was returning to my seat, and a module divider fell on the back of my ankle, leaving me with bone chips and a partial tendon tear. And again, same leg.
5. I am the Angel of Death for house plants. One touch from me and the shrivel and die. Seriously. I bought a rose plant for the office. It lasted nicely for a week, then I watered it on Friday and came back on Monday and it was dead. I've decided that it is cruel for me to buy them given that. Still, I do like them.
6. I prefer odd numbers to even. In other words, I can't think of a number six.

Consider yourself tagged if interested.

So, when you are facing the possibility of death in a few days (shut up - it's my blog and I'll be melodramatic if I want to.), you find yourself thinking about a lot of stuff. Here are some of those things.

• If I survive this arduous procedure, I really want to eat at Sammy's Bar and Grill. I drive past it a couple times a week at least, and it is always, always packed. People will wait hours to get in for dinner or Sunday brunch, which always features crab cakes (one of my favorite things). I really want to know what the fuss is about.
• I heard a fantastic sermon this weekend. My pastor is studying in Germany for the next two weeks, and a retired pastor in the congregation is filling in for him. She talked about the environment in which John wrote Revelation (a good intro for some, a good reminder for the rest of us), and talked about how it was aimed at a very specific audience and a very specific situation in the past, and that it isn't meant to be read as some mystical insight into future events. Then she talked about places in the world where religious persecution is still taking place. It was just really interesting.
• I also watched the teenagers in the congregation today, as I was sitting behind a group of the "cool" girls. There is one family that lets their daughters come to church dressed more like they should be hanging out on a street corner in a shady part of town. I'm sorry, but if you have to keep pulling your shorts down to keep your butt cheeks from showing, the are too short in general, and definitely too short for church. Anyway, their oldest was there (she's a freshman in high school) with two friends who don't belong to our church and probably don't go to church on a regular basis anywhere (didn't understand the hymnal, didn't understand the program of worship, and generally had that clueless look). Well, these three girls were absolutely smitten with out cantor who A) is too old for them - he's a senior in college, and B) would probably find their brother far more interesting, if you get my meaning. Meanwhile, one of the acolytes, a young guy who is part of one of the nicest families I've ever met, is making eyes at the three girls. Now, these girls not only didn't notice, they would never notice him because he has a little bit of the geek thing going on, and a lot of the nice guy thing going on. It was really a fascinting anthropological study on adolescent society and heirarchy.
• You know what I miss most about home? Eat 'n' Park. There is nothing like that here at all. For those of you not from the Pennsylvania/Ohio/West Virginia area, Eat 'n' Park is a family restaurant, with good food and pretty good prices. It's basically a step up from IHOP and a step down from Applebees, just to put it on a continuum. The closest thing we have here is Picadilly, which is good, but it is a cafeteria-type place. And I miss Smiley cookies, even though they are actually kind of nasty.
• I'd really like to go on a train trip someday. I know I've romanticized trains far beyond reality in my head, but still.
• I don't know where this compulsive cleaning thing I'm doing is coming from. Generally speaking, mess and clutter doesn't bother me. It drove my parents nuts when I was younger that I could just step over something on the floor instead of picking it up. My principal didn't understand how I could stand to teach in a cluttered classroom. I just had bigger and better things on my mind than cleaning.
• I also would like to see a kangaroo up close and personal.
• My boss's partner is the sweetest guy ever. I'm jealous of him. Why am I always attracted to gay guys?
• I got sunburned for the first time in a long time yesterday. I really need to get my AC in my car fixed. I learned why that is such a big deal here. My car windows are polarized, but that doesn't help if the windows are down.
• Hormones suck. I just recover from having my period, and now I have those mid-cycle hormones to deal with. I had forgotten how miserable that is. (Sorry, gentlemen readers.)
• I found a bra that I love. I had to buy a black bra because the big boss took our group out to lunch at the nicest restaurant in the city, and the sweater I wanted to wear had a fairly open knit. Any other time, I'd deal with the white showing through, but you just don'y do that when having lunch with the founder and CEO of the company at a four-star restaurant. Anyway, I was afraid the one I bought was going to be uncomfortable because the band size was smaller than I uually buy. But it fit perfectly, the cups were cotton-lined, and, if I may say, it made my chestal area look great.
• Mirna, on The Amazing Race, is the single most annoying person I have ever seen on TV.
• I wonder if I'll be able to wear 18-inch chains again now.
• My biggest fear is something going wrong with the anesthesia on Tuesday. That's a lot of control for a closet control freak to give up.
• My second biggest fear is that I won't be unconcious enough, and I'll be able to feel what they are doing.
• My third biggest fear is that the surgeon will slip and accidentally damage my vocal nerves.
• I think it is pretty cool that in the same prayer during the prayers of the people, we pray for the members of the military serving overseas and the suffering people of the countries they are serving in.
• Christians on reality shows are either the worst representatives of the faith, or they get the worst edits possible. I can't decide which.
• I don't think I would want to be on The Amazing Race, but it would be cool to get to do some of those once in a lifetime experiences.
• Louisiana politics suck.
• Sometimes I wonder why US territories like Puerto Rico and Guam and the Virgin Islands don't seem to want to become states. Then I hear things like this week's This American Life and I wonder if I can downgrade myself to territory. If you didn't hear it, download the podcast. It's worth a listen.
• Speaking of which, I find it really funny that I seem to get stuck with all the miltary proposals we work on when I am essentially a pacifist.
• The state of Louisiana legislature is going into session this week, and key on the agenda is how to spend all the unexpeced tax revenue from all the people buying building stuff following the hurricanes. The state has the worst public schools in the country, and there is actual debate about whether to increase funding for the schools.
• OK. I'm going forward to continue my cleaning now. But I just want to say that if Charla and Mirna end up winning The Amazing Race, I may have to give away my TV forever. It makes me sad that the Beauty Queens are the least icky team left. I wish Danny and Oswald hadn't been eliminated this week. And if they aren't dating, then The Donald will be crowning me the next Miss Universe.

So, it's 5 a.m. and I've been up all night doing laundry and cleaning. Why, you ask? It seems that that is how I respond to stress. I think it's because it's something I can control.

I'm calmer now, but I'm still freaked (picked a bad week to go off the anxiety meds, huh?). I know the reason, and I know how my thought processes work, but it doesn't really make it any better.

See, I associate hospitals with declining health. My grandmother was fine and wonderful, then she went into the hospital and got worse and died. Granted, she was 82, but I was only 5, and those early impressions are powerful.

Then my mom was fine and wonderful and healthy until she went into the hospital when I was in high school. From there, she was in a constant decline. Granted, she brought it on herself by being a 2-pack a day smoker. But I know what I observed.

My dad had never been sick a day in my life before he went into the hospital when I was in ninth grade. After that, he seemed somehow smaller, and really declined until he died. Again, granted, he brought it on himself because he was an alcoholic and destroyed his liver. But again, that association was formed.

I hate going to visit people in hospitals. Hell, I hate going to doctor's offices. Really, I hate the whole healthcare industry.

But I really, really hate hospitals. In my mind, that is where people get worse, not better. I know it is completely illogical. I know that hospitals are also where babies are born, and people receive life-saving treatments. I know that people who work in healthcare are not really Satan incarnate. But there is a big difference between what I know intellectually and what I believe emotionally.

Sigh.

I know I said it before, but I really wish my mom were here. I mean, I profess every week (well, when I make it to church), that I believe in the communion of saints, and I do. I know my mom and dad are in the presence of God, and that they are praying for me and with me. And I feel them with me every day in little things. But it's not the same as a physical presence. I want someone to hug me and let me cry on their shoulder and to tell me its going to be OK. But I don't have that. And it sucks.

The fact of the matter is that I am scared, and lonely, and homesick, and worried. I can't sugar coat that or gloss over it. I know this is minor surgery, but it doesn't matter.

Maybe I wouldn't be so scared if I had had my tonsils or appendix out when I was a kid. The surgeon's nurse was shocked when I said I had never had surgery. She didn't seem to believe me at first.

But I haven't, and now I have to.

And I don't wanna.

Guess what I'm doing next Tuesday!

If you guessed something fun like Jazzfest, or getting my hair cut, or sleeping in, you would be wrong.

If you guessed having surgery, you would be right on the money.

Saw the surgeon today. I expected him to do another ultrasound, maybe a CT scan, and then make a decision. Nope. He can feel the thyroid pressing on my esophagus, and with my voice changes, he said the sooner the better.

Can I just tell you that I'm petrified? I have never had surgery before. Never stayed in the hospital overnight.

I know it is routine, and low risk. That doesn't change the fact that I'm sitting at my desk crying right now, and that I just want...I don't know what I want.

This is one of those times, though, when I really wish my mom were still around. There are certain things that you just need a Mum for.

Just wanted to share this video I happned upon while blog surfing to get away from all the military stuff I've been working on this week.

So, went to the endocrinologist yesterday. Blood sugars are good, hormones are good. Everything is good.

Except my thyroid.

I asked her what I should be concerned about with the thyroid enlargement - because I knew that I have been having symptoms that I am concerned about (my voice gets weaker as the day goes on, it has been getting progressively weaker in general - I no longer would be confident about reading Scripture in church for instance, because I don't think my voice could get through a whole reading, stuff tends to get caught up when I swallow, I have a cough that gets worse after I talk, my neck hurts sometimes). So she told me, and I (foolishly) told her why I asked.

Well, she said that it sounds like the goiter is pressing on my larynx, and maybe my trachea. She said she has learned from experience to be agressive with that kind of thing, because she has seen patients wait to long and suffer from irreparable voice damage.

So, tomorrow I get to see a surgeon. Looks like my non-functional thyroid is coming out.

I've never had surgery before. I don't like that idea.

Who knows? I may get lucky and he'll disagree.

Sigh.

OK. It might be the hormones talking (that time came a little early this month), but this article made me cry.

Of course, I also cried at a picture of a cute puppy, because I a webpage wouldn't load fast enough, and because I couldn't find a parking place at Wal-Mart, so take it how you will.

Still, this guy deserves some recognition.

• This is a test
• to see if the bullets work
• on this template
• since the didn't on the old one.

Libraries

Go. Read. Discuss.