I'm FREAKING OUT, man
A slight change of plans. Although my operation has indeed been confirmed for this Thursday, I will be admitted into the hospital beforehand tomorrow afternoon -because an extra unnecessary night spent getting interupted sleep with bi-hourly nurse checks is exactly what I was wishing for. (I'm not big on pre-quels, okay?, unless it's the background story to Oscar-snubbed flick, I Know Who Killed Me.) Who is the April fool, now?
Heros wants a special MRI performed at Jackson a day prior, which is fine but being hooked up to an IV, dressed in a hospital gown and having dinner served on a cafeteria tray a day prior I consider not to be so fine.
I much rather be home. I want to be home. I always try my best to relax the night before going under. The last thing I need is to be stuck in the environment that already puts my nerves on end 24-hours before heading into the OR.
I need to pack for this sleepover. Along with Maddy, my toothbrush, and a fresh pair of underwear, I'm bringing Tobey Toshiba but the probability of the hosputal having internet is slim. A missed out night at home also means a missed out night of the important things in life like Real World and Make Me A Supermodel. No AIM and no TV make Chloe go something-something... (Crazy?) Don't mind if I do!
So what happens next? I really don't know when I'll be back; literally and metaphorically -but God owes me, big time. Here's for the best. I love you all.
Irrelevant but I'm lucky that my tia somewhat knows how to cut hair. With my current monster looks I would never step foot inside a salon- especially with this expander dangling from my head. (A tentacle, perhaps?) In February my surgeons shaved patches off my head leaving me with a punk rock hairdo but after 20 minutes with my scissor-armed aunt I nowI have the coat of a short-haired dog. I look like a chocolate lab, a dashound or that beagle that played Wishbone. Woof.