This is not my x-ray. I just wanted to show you the little bars that go across. Those are the perpetrators. They're coming out.
Okay, being an adult blows. A lot. I want to tell you this time it's "no big deal" just a day surgery. No hospital stay required. No two year healing period. These things are all true and it is the right thing to do. Stupid right thing. Apparently, if the metal continues to protrude into the soft tissue besides hurting me it will cause scar tissue to form and adhere to the foreign bodies and cause more trouble than it's already causing. So, awesome.
There is no metaphor for this. There is no moment in a normal lifetime that feels like this one. I can only liken it to things I haven't experience, torture. If you were whipped to varying degrees 21 times you'd flinch even if someone only raised their hand to strike you. My 21st surgery, geez. I don't need anymore of this crap. I don't want my body invaded again. I'm glad there was an opening this week. I want this behind me. I'd like to skip over the moment it happens and start in the moment after. I wonder what the Buddhists would say about that plan...
If I concentrate I can imagine the offending metal pieces in a baggie, the pain in the spot finally gone and more movements gaining fluidity. I hate the anesthesia part. It's such a nasty thing. I've been told traces of it stay in your tissues for years. I've also heard that they think there's a link between frequent anesthesia and dementia, God I hope not.
Forgive my foray into melodrama, but enough is enough. Now I've got to get through this so I can be home with kids and my puppy. One foot in front of the other. I'll be fine, really. Just don't expect me to have it all together tonight. Tonight I get to stamp my feet, cry and generally be moody once the kids are in bed. Tomorrow, I'll nail down rides, babysitting, etc and then distract myself to the best of my ability. Wednesday, consent forms and lab work. Thursday surgery.