Tomorrow I go under the surgeon’s knife to have my gall bladder taken out. You see, I’ve been having terrible gall bladder attacks that are quite painful and a sonogram revealed my gall bladder full of gravel. Note how I said gravel, not stones. Yep. I’ve been carrying around a pocketful of calcified bits of blech in my body. Gross. And they have to go. The little suckers have been causing all sorts of havoc with my digestion, and I’m just finished with it. I know there’s some kind of flush you can do (Trudy, I know you’re railing at my decision not to go herbal) but it involves lying on your side for an entire day while you take this herbal concoction while your body flushes out more than 300 stones in one go because it also pulls from your liver. Note again how I said, “flush,” yeah, as in lots of bathroom time. No thanks. Not this time. I just want the sucker gone. I know your gall bladder makes this certain enzyme that I will need to supplement but I figure that’s okay.

So, in preparation of tomorrow I’ve been — ready for this — totally nesting! Yeah, you know that phenomenon where pregnant women start cleaning obsesssively right before they go into labor? Yeah, that kind of nesting. I’ve already scrubbed my kitchen and now I’m eying the bathroom with a speculative stare. I’m also in a hurry to get everything I need done such as laundry, groceries, last-minute work stuff and packing needs for our vacation (which isn’t until the end of the month but hey I’m in a organized kind of mood) but as I sit and pen this short blog I think I’ve hit upon the reason for all this productivity…I’m nervous.

I know it’s a simple surgery, second most common, actually, but I am a bit twitchy about going under the knife. Weird things happen. Like the surgeon could forget some kind of tool in my body and I wouldn’t know about it until years later when I keep setting off the metal detectors in airports. Or I could..*gulp* die in some freakish this-never-happens-but-once-in-a-million-surgeries and that would really suck. My family accuses me of drifting toward the melodramatic when I say these things but someone has to be the statistic and sometimes my luck isn’t so hot. Just ask my best friend. She’ll tell you. If it’s odd, unexplainable, or just plain OMG that was weird! it’ll happen to me. *sigh* Guess I’m special.

So, I could use a little good luck coming my way if anyone were so inclined. Good thoughts count too. I’ll post again when I come out the other side, minus an organ but feeling 100 percent better.

Happy writing!

Kimberly