The title of this post is one of the sayings that Deb has been using all the way from the beginning back in 2009. I think it has something to do with the mindset of the common surgeon, even the ones that only operate on animals as Deb did. Yeah, OK, fine. I've been cut on a few times myself, so I can't say much on that.
Deb's next date with a scalpel, and not being on the handle end of it, will be on February 12th (which is a Friday for those keeping score at home). I will be posting quite often around then, especially since most of the reason for this blog is to keep interested parties informed about what's going on without my having to make a bunch of phone calls. The surgery time will be around 11am PT (just assume that any times that I mention will be in Pacific Time from here on out), though they will take her back for some other stuff before that. I'll explain reasons for that in a later post. They may well take her and shoo me away to the waiting room (AKA the Pit of Agony and Worry and Gnashing of Teeth) as early as 9am. Maybe not until 10am. I guess I won't know for certain until February 12th.
The current thinking is that she will spend the first night in the hospital (which is good because they have better, quicker painkillers there that go straight into your arm - we don't keep an IV pump at home). Deb's mom, Linda, is due in sometime on Saturday morning so, depending on when they say they'll discharge Deb, I'll either go get her at the airport or ask a friend to do it for me. Linda will be around for at least two weeks, which makes me feel a lot better about being able to care for Deb.
That's all for now. As usual, more to follow.
F*#&ing Cancer ...
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