Katie's BMT Updates

The day for my gallbladder surgery has arrived. The surgeon just visited and said we are definitely "on" for this afternoon. Someone should come for me around 3pm and the procedure will begin about 4pm. I will be relieved because I woke up this morning with that feeling you get when you've truly run out of patience with something and, it's official, I'm sick of this place. As for the surgery itself, the surgeon says there's and 80/20 chance they'll be able to remove my gallbladder laproscopicly (I would love to check the spelling on this world, but my part-human, part-machine husband's computer is so complicated that you can't even browse the internet anymore without being an insider. Most people have bookmarks, a link to a homepage -- let you type in the url field, for God's sake!). The surgeon examined my CT scan, though, and said that my gallbladder is so inflamed and bloated with stones that there's a chance they might have to take it the old-fashioned way -- with a big 'ole scar. Isn't life funny that way? You're finally skinny enough for a bikini, just not entirely presentable. I'm NPO ("Nothing by Mouth," but it's really from the Latin -- "nulla per os" -- so that's why it's "NPO" instead of "NBM," in case you're wondering, I was ...) today, again. Yesterday, I was allowed to eat whatever I wanted and was very encouraged to do so. Of course, that just made me loathe the thought of food. I mean, wouldn't you feel the same? They don't let you eat all week and then all of the sudden it's "eat, eat, eat!" ... Rising to the occasion, though, I managed to eat a tuna fish sandwich, most of an Asian pear, some dried apricots, a few Cracker Jacks and Chex Mix. Funny how today, I think I could eat a horse. But really, I know I could just do with a glass of water or an ice chip. When I have these restrictions, I think of 18th century desert travelers, prisoners stonewalled in 17th-century garrisons and, well, getting lost in the woods without the proper provisions. I feel bolstered by the knowledge that I am not alone in my suffering and, in many cases, that the duration of my discomfort will pass swiftly in comparison to most of those above mentioned ... Anyway, I am looking forward to getting back on a solid diet at my own pace -- without the vicious gallbladder. And I've only got 1:20 until they come to take me away ... What's the proper thing to say to someone who's about to go into surgery? Hmmm ... Happy Knife! Katie