I'm sitting in the prep room for my next surgery. I'm wearing a pretty swanky robe. They also gave me a hairnet, which strikes me as totally hilarious.
Yesterday I went to a walk-in clinic to get a sore foot checked out, and it turns out I probably have a little fracture in a metatarsal. So, I got a special shoe.
Then, last night, I started feeling really achy and sick. I took my temperature, and sure enough, I had a fever. Looks like some kind of gastrointestinal bug.
So, limping and nauseated, I dragged myself to surgery this morning at 5:30 am. People stared at me in the waiting room. This happens a lot, probably because I'm usually the youngest person there, but today I found it pretty funny trying to guess which of my three problems they were looking so worried about. As I'm typing this, my docs are deciding whether to operate.
... Aaaand it looks like I'm being pushed to next week.
On the one hand, I'm sad - I'd emotionally prepared myself for this surgery, and now I have to do the same thing next week. On the other hand, all I want to do is chug this gatorade and sleep for a thousand years, so wish granted.