That’s not a knife
Before I drag you back into more glum medical crap, here’s a picture of a Siberian Husky puppy coughing up another Siberian Husky puppy.
In other news, I got scheduled for surgery today.
I don’t mean I’m having surgery TODAY. I mean on this date, I got put on the surgeon’s schedule. I am going under the knife on 3/19, about four days after I return from The Amazing Adventure. We could have done it before the trip, but I would still be recovering during the cruise. And I’m already signed up to drive an all-terrain vehicle around Mazatlan.
Anyway, the day after I get back (3/16) I go in to get some bloodwork done, meet the anesthesiologist, slip him or her a stack of Benjamins to not kill me, and start fretting. Then on 3/19, I go under the gas/knife. Three hours later, I’ll be in recovery as a newly minted athyroidist.
I think the surgeon knows his stuff, although he is foolishly unafraid of the Law of Dramatic Tragedies:
The chances of the worst possible outcome, no matter how remote, increase proportionally with the smugness of the assurance that it will not happen. SEE ALSO: The “I’ll Sign The Insurance Forms When I Get Back” Law.
So this is what will happen to me, because they never happen to anyone else:
- My parathyroid glands will be damaged, meaning I will have to take calcium supplements along with my synthetic thyrid hormone forever
- My voice box will be damaged, turning me into a Gilbert Godfried impersonator until the End Times
- The surgeon will underestimate the sharpness of his scalpel and cut my head off
The last one may seem a little over-the-top. But when the surgeon was telling me about the incision, he did that little “cut” move with his fingers across the neck, which can either mean “turn it off” or “you are so dead.”
Assuming he doesn’t cut my head off, I’ll stay there overnight and come home first thing the next morning, then get pampered for a few days.
Not much else to tell you. It’s still a month out as I write this, but there are few enough steps that I can see the end.