Tomorrow morning I am going to have my uterus killed off in a freak procedure that involves balloons and boiling saline. Woohoo! It reminds me of the Dennis Leary song about cutting off heads and boiling them in oil. I am not sure why, but I can not stop singing it.
Wish me luck. I am actually a little nervous. I don't like being put under (general anesthesia is not an easy sell with me). This is how it works: "count to ten backwards..."
Me: "10, 9, 8 (surgery happens) GEEZUS WTF @($#&% Pain Meds Helloooo???"
I swear like a longshoreman when I come out of general anesthesia. Seriously. When I was ten, I had my appendix removed and when I came out of it (in a puddle of my own drool) I cussed out the nurse who tried to give me a shot of morphine. I said: "Jesus Christ, if it isn't one goddamn thing it's another." Me. Ten.
When I had my wisdom teeth pulled at 21 I woke up alone on a hallway bench (in a puddle of my own drool) and started cussing immediately: "Where the (*&%^ is my @^$^(* roommate??"
So we can count on two things. I will be in a puddle of my own drool and I will berate anyone who happens to be near me.
No comments:
Post a Comment