My surgeon awaits

Surgery is scheduled, finally, and my lovely surgeon awaits. Okay, maybe my surgeon won't be operating with straight razors and look like Johnny Depp (actually she looks more like Jodie Foster), but I'm set for the 18th of this month.

Oddly enough, it'll be outpatient surgery. This I find somewhat concerning, not because I have any of the traditional reservations about general anesthesia (y'know, like dying on the table and so forth). No, my concern is more dignity-related. You see, some years ago as I was in the recovery room from having my wisdom teeth pulled under general anesthesia, I'm told I crept out of the room and crawled down the hall ON MY HANDS AND KNEES. When the nurse (a pair of white shoes and stockings from my point of view) came to find me, I burst into tears.

So I'm kind of hoping I behave myself a little better this time. It took many, many years to live down that stunt.