Did I Shave My Legs For This?

So I went to the doctor today about an issue that I mentioned a few posts ago ... that I figured was more bark than bite and could be filed under the category of "one of those things you just have to deal with" ... you know, like degenerative disc disease and tachycardia and all the other things that have bit me in the butt over the past year.

And without going into the kind of detail that makes my friends in real life not be able to look me in the eye when we run into each other... it's a bigger deal than I thought and has some bigger risks than Dr. Google had led me to believe... and will require more surgical intervention than I had anticipated.

Or as she so delicately put it, "the most painful type of surgery that we do"...
Really?
Because those are the kind of statements that I usually just add for dramatic flair.

Pending approval of time off of work... and pending the kind of logistics like having someone drive me to the hospital and back for part one... and then having someone drive me to the hospital and back for part two... this two act drama will get underway on November 30th. On the plus side... it will be while I'm still basking in the glow of having met this year's insurance deductible... on the minus side.... basically eliminating any chance of me buying Christmas gifts. Sorry kids. Santa's not coming to our house this year.

I'll come home after the second procedure with a pain pump. If that doesn't make you gulp, I don't know what will. The anticipated time off work will be about two weeks. I'll be on a liquid diet for a couple of days (yay! weight loss during the holidays!)... and I'll be moving slower than normal for about a month (which, at my current pace... would mean going in reverse). After that I'll be good as new. Or. Well, I'll still have a jacked up dysfunctional spine and fibromyalgia and tachycardia and high blood pressure and the dreaded MORBID obesity and ... well, COPD and the other things I have to live with that that OTHER issue will be fixed.

Morticia the Surgery Scheduler took me into her office and gave me a whole binder of information. Ok. So less than a binder, more than a pamphlet. I have details for preop, details for day one, details for day two, details for removing the pain pump (again, gulping)... And she wrapped it all up with a lecture about carrying a balance with the hospital still (from the MRI earlier this year) and how that could interfere with the whole process and please, be responsible enough to contact them and work out a repayment schedule (which is what I thought I had but... whatever) so that the whole surgery didn't have to be rescheduled.

"YOU DON'T WANT US TO HAVE TO RESCHEDULE ALL OF THIS DO YOU????"  She condescended with a glare that made me feel like I was in the Principal's office. I don't think it's fair game that she wouldn't even crack open the calendar until she had my check for ten percent of the surgery fee in her greedy little manicured fingers. I mean... we didn't really need to eat this pay period. What is WITH the medical community? They send in the sweet doctor to tell you how desperately you need the surgery and convince you that although it's not quite life and death, delaying the procedure will certainly lead to unwanted  gnarly side effects. Then once you're on board, they send you in to the business office and go for the jugular.

I finished with Morticia (not her real name) backed out of her office without making any sudden movements and dutifully gave my paperwork to the friendlier young lady at the front desk who sent me off with a cheery, "See you soon, Ms. Darby"... Yes. You will. Although I may not see YOU, thank you, morphine. I went to the car and called the office to let them know that today's procedure had rendered me worthless for the rest of the day... and then I boohoo'ed my way from Gainesville to Sautee. And if you're not from around here, that's about 45 minutes worth of snotty tears. And me without a single napkin, dirty sock or anything to wipe my nose on other than my sleeve.

And of course, being the kind of dark, dramatic day that it is (slightly overcast with a chance of pain)... of course my driveway had to be blocked with Morrie's truck and I had to wait for the dogs to bark to alert him of my need to pass through... and of course he had to pantomime that he wasn't going to move and I had to roll down my window and plead the dreaded full bladder and hope that my Baby Jane mascara streaks wouldn't give me away as the emotional wreck I was at the moment.

Am. Currently. I'm going to make myself a nice cup of hot chocolate and settle in to watch the closing arguments of the Michael Jackson Trial and drift off to Never Never Land.

Did I really shave my legs for this?