If everything works as planned, my final surgery, the one where they do the "spring cleaning", is on Wednesday, August 4. I am ready... or as ready as I'll ever be for four days in a hospital with a seam down my front as a souvenir (bye bye bikinis). Gee, I hope my tattoos don't get messed up! (That's a joke. I have four green perma-targets on my abdomen and hips for the radiation. I'm not enamored of them in the least.) I got away with having three babies without a hospital involved. I've only stayed in the hospital to get my tonsils out in high school and they sent me home early because I was such a wrotten patient. I am NOT kidding. Ask my mom.
But, really, I'm ready to put this business behind me. I'm ready for my life to be about more than my frail corpus. I'm ready to build me up, buttercup. Be all I can be. Like that. Howard and I were wonderfully fortunate to have our world travelers, Ethan and wife Tiffany, to keep me company while I rested up this last month. They are off on another adventure, but I won't be alone. Claire and Holly are coming into town and taking shifts to take care of me. They'll be here to feed me and carry my purse and, most likely, listen to me whine.
Come see me. Better yet, pray for everything to come out alright. Literally. I will be convalescing at home by the end of this week. I'll be fine, no matter what, because, you know and I know, God is taking care of me.