Tomorrow is the big day. When I rise, I shall shave off my beard except for my moustache, wipe the cream off my face, check for spots that I missed, and take a picture. Being that I will have stopped eating and drinking as of midnight, I shall avoid the kitchen. The only water I am allowed is a small amount for downing two of my normal morning meds. Then I shall sit and wait for Lynn to pick me up at eleven for my twelve o’clock check-in at Mission Hospital.
I don’t know what will transpire there once they lade the gurney with this blubbery carcass of mine except for some small details. I shall probably get to be awake for the probing for a suitable vein and the puncture of the IV. Then someone in a frilly hat will probably say words of explanation to consecrate my passage into the anesthesiologist’s spirit world, which I am told is black and without sensation, a sleep probably like no other that I have experienced. Two to four hours of being Terri Schiavo.
Then the surgeon shall make a cut on the side of my head to locate the facial nerve. When he finds it, he shall follow it to the lump and remove it. That glop shall then go to the pathologist who will analyze it and determine if it is indeed benign or premalignant. If not, the surgeon may look around a little more for other masses or simply refer me to an oncologist for chemo. Otherwise, he will slash my neck, remove a chunk of meat, and fill the hole in my head with it.
I shall wake in a different place. Perhaps I shall keep my eyes closed for longer just to scare the nurses.
The thing that disappoints me is that I shall be the same person coming out of the operation as going in. I’m not depressed about it, just regretful. All this medicine dedicated to saving me. This only convinces me that one does not get what one deserves in this world, one just lives in it wherever one is.
To compensate for my fear, I’ve allowed myself a modicum of mischievousness. For example, I told Francis Strand to use May Day as a chance to arouse some prisoner of starvation. Plus I added some new search terms to Crazy Tracy’s list.
Sometimes it’s just healthy to be wicked.