So, tomorrow I'm off to the hospital to mend the little hole in my heart. During my most recent echo cardiogram, the doctors were able to capture this image:
Isn't technology amazing? Who knew the hole had personality?
I'm planning on milking this event for all it's worth. We're having dinners brought in, and that means my family will have home-cooked meals for the first time in their lives. They are very excited. Kid C even offered to punch a new hole in my heart if it meant more meals.
I'm bringing my computer with me. Sam asked me why, and I'm all, "Because heart surgery is my only chance for quiet writing time."
He thinks I'm a little unclear on the concept. But have you seen my summer? It's loud and obnoxious, and constantly tapping me on my shoulder asking to be fed or entertained. So sure, I'll be in a hospital room, slightly drugged, but it will be quiet, because no code blue can compete with a bored 7-year-old and a frustrated 4-year-old.
Yes, I realize I'm approaching this as if it's a weekend at the spa, but it's keeping me sane.
Wish me luck. Or, what do you say to someone pre-surgery? Break a leg? Try not to nick an artery? Hope the anesthesia works?
I'll be thinking of all of you as I drift into la la land. Well, either you or Barry Manilow. Okay, let's be honest... I'll be thinking of Rafael Nadal.
Sweet Dreams, y'all.