Are You Flirting With Me?

I met my surgeon this afternoon and he is a funny guy. He has a charming Texas accent and a fancy title on his business cards. He has diagnosed me with Biliary dyskinesia, which translates to your gall bladder has petered out in layman's terms. He said that if there was a textbook on gall bladder disorders (and one would think there has to be at least one of those somewhere) that my picture would be next to Biliary dyskinesia because I had a textbook case that a med student could diagnose. I didn't tell him that Dr. Google had increased his batting average by nailing this one.

My surgery is scheduled for tomorrow at 12:15 and I have to arrive at the hospital at 9 for the pre-op stuff and he wants to run my labs again. I should be nervous about the surgery but I'm so sick of this pain that I could remove the gall bladder with a fork myself. It's kind of like being nervous about the epidural when you are having a baby, but when the real pain hits you are begging them to slice your spine clean open if they have to.

I'm tempted to take my laptop with me since I'll have some downtime before surgery but all I need to do is have access to iTunes when I'm drugged up. I'll be dancing around in my hospital gown, flashing my white ass to the world. No one needs that, so you will just have to wait until I get home tomorrow evening to hear stories of how I have embarrassed myself.