I wrote and scheduled this post a week ago, if that jinxed my surgery and it isn’t actually happening for some reason, I am holding you all responsible. And I am increasingly sure that this surgery is jinxed, it has been an almost impossible disaster start to finish (labs missing, doctors not sending in paperwork, labs not receiving prescriptions, so many hours of me on the phone advocating for myself), so don’t be surprised if I put up a post in a few hours saying “surgery canceled, I am very depressed and hiding in bed”.

Woo-hoo, I am getting a new toe! I really REALLY hope. In a fairly routine out patient surgery that is extremely complex because a) I’m doing it in the middle of a pandemic, and b) turns out, it’s really hard to not use your foot for two weeks while the stitches set, and c) Margaret and the medical profession are a terrible mixture and guaranteed disaster.

At some point today, I drive myself over to the out patient foot surgery center ten minutes from my apartment. Leave the car in the lot, go check in, give them my parents’ cell phone number. And then they sedate me and fiddle about with bones and things, and then wake me up and tell me it’s time to leave, and call my parents to come pick me up. My parents load me in their car, Dad drives me home and Mom drives my car home, and then I hobble up the two flights to their apartment and gently collapse into the guest bed.

When do I wake up enough to check the blog? WHO KNOWS! How long am I on pain pills that make me too loopy to write? NO IDEA! When will I have the energy to sit upright and type on the computer? A MYSTERY!!!!

So, either you will get a nice cheerful post sometime this evening saying “here’s a list of the best songs to watch while sick!”, or you will hear nothing from me for a week as I drift in and out of consciousness. Or of course, you will get a “I am very depressed and miserable, no surgery after all, anyone around for a Friday Watchalong?” post.

Aren’t bodies fascinating? The doctors know everything about fixing the toe, but no idea how hard the pain will hit me or what my reaction to the pain pills will be or the sedation or any of that fun stuff. I mean, I won’t die, and I won’t be dancing a jig, but between those two extremes there are a lot of known unknowns.