Image from from I LOVE TYPOGRAPHY
I have two and one-half hours to eat, drink beverages, smoke, chew gum, before I shall sew my lips closed until after surgery. It's a wonder I'm using my fingers to type; I should have rigged up a bungee cord around my neck with a plate suspended at my chin. Or a feedbag.
In twelve hours I will be approaching the La-La Land of general anesthesia. I am promised an aperitif of Versed if I am nervous. The nurse warned me that it might make me "a little woozy."
"Woozy's good," I told her. (Listen: I stopped drinkin', but I can still enjoy a little justified, supervised woozy when the occasion warrants.)
I gather I'll be under for less than an hour, and then comes that waking up process with the nurse urging me to take ever-deeper breaths when all I'll want to do swat her out of my way so I can go back to sleep. I'm not looking forward to that but I won't remember much of it anyway.
And then home with Husband, who will be close at hand until he has to travel on Wednesday.
...at which time I will have a friend come to babysit me.
I have made her promise to sit next to my bed and read fairytales to me should I request it.