All backed up

There are so many posts over here stacked together, it’s like rush hour on the Howard Franklin Bridge. A flurry of blog activity, you could say. Today is the day I go for the Mohs Surgery I’ve been fussing about. Some of us are saying little prayers for my nose and the rest of us are just hoping it doesn’t end up like MJ’s. Not that I give a whit about MJs nose, dead or alive.

Rich is giving me a great deal of moral support. He’s still sleeping. But I’m about to go roust him so we can change the sheets so when I get home this afternoon from my outpatient ‘procedure’ it’s a clean bed. I always like fresh linens for a special occasion, don’t you know. Didn’t sleep well but put the time to okay use, figuring out how to upload videos and set them to music. Then I read my current (GOOD, highly recommended) book, Cutting For Stone. I’m at the part where the protagonist is watching surgery in the tropics at a mission hospital. For some reason, that didn’t put me to sleep so I fed the cat Friskies Party Mix, one at a time. These are supposed to be cat treats but it’s taken Sophie less than a week to train me into making it her steady diet. She sits on the nightstand and stares…

I asked Rich if he would take pictures and he said yes but wondered if Dr. Spencer will allow that. What do I say? “Dr. Spencer, don’t worry, I’m not going to ever sue you, I just want these to post on my weblog so the whole world wide web can see how great this is?” Anyway, here is the first in the series:nosespot (My nose on the morning of the surgery. Considering I’m setting aside all my qualms about my appearances and doing this for educational purposes, be nice. I just noticed the clenched fist. No, I’m not tense. What makes you think so?)

Off to wake Rich, change the sheets and get a script filled for a few xanax. The good doctor gave me seven. In the comfort of my own bed, one would knock me out for 10 hours. But in these circumstances, I’m tempted to take all seven. KIDDING. I’ll take one. And put one in my pocket in case I start feeling crazy nervous midstream.

My mother was, as you know from past writing here, a remarkable woman in her own right- bright, feisty, an extraordinary environmentalist. But she wasn’t exactly June Cleaver in the household aisle. So, while I do miss chatting with her sometimes, you know who I’m really missing right now?n521353284_516974_5424(I often can’t believe the nose above produced this nose. Further evidence she’s an alien.)

You’re right. I chatted with her on FaceBook the other night. I was doing that screaming harpy sort of typing, ” Stay hydrated! Only drink clean water! Did you get some pepper spray? Don’t smile or even make eye contact with strangers!”  She calmly typed back:

I just got my IRB (International Research Board) approval today because I got my letter from the state government – secretary of urban development and the environment yesterday and faxed it to the IRB and they approved me today and today I rented a car and bought a cell phone

So she is fine. Me, too. I’ll catch up with you later in the day.n521353284_516990_3485(Abby! Call your mother!)

11 responses to “All backed up

  1. All this Mohs surgery seems like it should be a piece of cake, but it isn’t. When I had mine done at the end of June, I was fine the day of the surgery. I hadn’t slept too well the night before either. When the doctor called me later in the day to see how I was, I replied, “Oh fine.” She said, “You know you’ve been through quite a bit today.”

    Two days later I melted in a puddle of tears…took myself to see Ice Age.

    Thinking of you today…I was just over the bridge in the UP at Cedar Camp, the campus of Inter-Varsity.

  2. The clenched fist was the first thing I noticed.

    And hey! New pictures of Abby! Damn, that girl is pretty. And good at ignoring you.

  3. I sensed your anxiety in the photo. Good shot though, steady hand.

    We change the sheets before we take a road trip, so when we come home we can sink into our own bed on clean sheets. I understand that ritual.

    Abby looks so beautiful. All I could think of, though, is I hope she’s wearing sunscreen.

    Thinking of you. Best wishes for an easy surgery and a speedy recovery.

  4. Rituals… mine is cleaning the garage… don’t care about the sheets… just can’t leave for a trip or anything major without cleaning the garage. And not just a cleaning… a clean off all the shelves, clean out the cabinets, move everything out, clean cat boxes and scrub the floor, wash the windows cleaning. OK… ready to go.

  5. Repeat after me (channeling Julian)–all shall be well and all shall be well. All manners of things shall be well.

    (Actually the clenched fist put me in mind of “Hail Caesar”–but then the rest is not appropriate, and besides you aren’t going into the arena to face lions–are you?)

  6. They don’t get it that we WORRY–they’re fine after all!From their perspective, we’re fussy but one day, they’ll probably understand. Take it easy with your xanax and I’m hoping good things for the Nose.

  7. Vicki's sister Betsy

    You know that photo of Mom at Christmas 2003, where she was looking at the camera as though it were about to attack? Glad to see you’re not at all anxious about today’s “procedure.”

    You’ll be fine, I know, and returned to your lovely “Irish” complexion in no time. (We’re Irish?) And you’ve inspired me (and many others, I’m guessing) to get my self to the dermotologist, so thank you for your public service to the fair-skinned of the world.

    Take care — thinking of you — Bets

  8. I’m sure it is over by now, and I hope it went well and you are happy with the result (if you can see it) and the fists are unclenched.. Also hope that the Xanax did the trick! I like clean sheets too, and when we go away, I have to leave the whole house clean (except the garage, SRP – lol)

    I think Abby will be fine – she is her mother’s daughter – after all. You both have nice noses!

  9. Sheets are clean before venturing off on trips, here.

    LOVE seeing Abby. She looks beautiful as always. And yes, you look just a teensie bit tense. Sending you love. I bet the fists are unclenched now.

  10. You can change sheets?
    Who knew …

    And that fist … I thought you were doing a Klingon salute.

    I hope it went well and that you are managing the pain and discomfort. Sure enjoyed getting to meet you.

  11. Fame is rot; daughters are the thing. ~James Matthew Barrie

    I always vote for calling one’s mother!

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