Prep

Tomorrow morning is pre-operative day. I have an appointment with the surgeon, to check the size and status of the fibroids, I have to have a physical, get blood drawn, meet with the anesthesiologist, and get my final hormone shot. I'm going to all of these appointments alone, and so far, I've gone to all of my appointments. Now, that doesn't mean I don't call my sister before and immediately after, or call my closest friends at the same intervals. But, it means I'm on my own. And I don't mind. I would prefer to be strong, independent, and be able to check out in the waiting room. You know, check out and read a book, or talk to another patient who's waiting, or read the crappy Nick Jr. or Parents magazines that are so prevalent in the waiting room of a fertility clinic.

Tonight, I stopped by my parents' house to pick up my hormone shot. I procrastinated and had to call in a favor to pick up the Rx from the pharmacy. This is where the fun started.

Mom wanted to know, for like the 5th time, the doctors' names. She wanted to stress that I should ask the doctor about the new robotic tool that is supposedly used for gynecological surgeries. In my city but not at the hospital I'm going to. And I don't want to switch hospitals because there were a lot of problems with this other hospital when it first came to the city and now it's tainted. Plus I like my doctor and I don't think he'd do an outdated surgery. He's like 40 years old for christ's sake. He's modern. (I don't think that's a rational argument, but I'm going with it.) I don't think I need a second opinion, and I don't want my mother asking me to get one 3 days before surgery.

Dad wanted me to rehash the details of the surgery. He wanted to know how big the incision is going to be, and if I had ever met the surgeon before. I'm not really into thinking about the size of the incision, and I can't believe he had to ask if I'd met the surgeon. We'd been over this numerous times.

So, in typical Melissa fashion, I rushed out of there. It ended well though. Mom stopped me at the door, gave me the TV week from the Sunday paper, and then gave me my Valentine's Day treat a couple of days early. That put a smile on my face! Pepperidge Farm Raspberry Chantilly cookies. I'm going to have them with some tea.

Funny - there was a photo of Dracula on the front page of the TV week, and so Mom had the booklet face down. I turned it over, exclaimed Oh! and said, "I don't want this!". Mom totally knew why, said, "That's why I had it face down", ripped off the cover and I took it with me. It's so obvious we're related.

Finally: I'm sort of stressed about the multiple punctuation errors in the previous paragraph but I just don't feel like fixing them so I'm not going to.