No bigs, as it turns out, though it was a far more involved process than I was expecting. I anticipated some betadine, some local numbing agents and bing bang boom, all done in five minutes. Instead there was an hour of prep, a half hour of recovery, an IV line, a sedative, constant blood pressure and oxygen-level monitoring, a gown, a hairnet, and a big bag to keep all my S in for the duration.
But it’s done, and I have laid around the house and done fuckall today, and will do fuckall in an abbreviated day at work tomorrow. And maybe by this time next week, I’ll be better.
It’s weird, knowing that people you barely know and have never met are thinking of you and wishing you well in your time of need. And yet. Maybe that’s how this grace thing works.
From your post on Tuesday, “This is just the price of getting old.” — True enough. As my husband is fond of saying, “It beats the alternative!”
Glad to hear that you’re feeling alright. 🙂