Four pounds lighter and drinking a malt

Well, what everybody told me is true: the procedure is a piece o' cake. No, wait, bad analogy, since you can't have any food. It's a breeze. Heh. Yeah, considering the windy recovery, that 's a better descriptor.

I do not remember a thing about the procedure. I was passed out cold. I had forgotten to mention that I am very, very sensitive to drugs. Drugs and I are not friends. Whenever I am prescribed something like a muscle relaxant or a painpill, I usually cut it in half. So the full-dose anesthesia, instead of just "relaxing" me, knocked me flat on my ... well, no, not flat, since that would have been a problem. But it really put me out.

I do not remember getting from the procedure room to the recovery room. Did I walk? Was I choppered in? Wheeled on a gurney? Hell if I know.

What I remember is the nurse coming in repeatedly and disturbing my deep sleep. Finally she said, a bit testily, I really need for you to wake up. And I said, groggily, You do? and promptly passed out again.

It is now nearly 3 p.m., five hours since the procedure, and I am finally awake enough to drink the chocolate malt that Doug bought me on the way home. Lo is coming by soon to drop off Sara for the weekend. And then I will go back to bed.

For those of you who are afraid of having this procedure done: Do not be. It truly was nothing. It's a huge expenditure of time--two days out of your life of boredom and hunger. But that's all.

If you're having it done, say, tomorrow (Brina), do not worry. And if you should be having it done, go ahead. Nobody whines more than I do, and here I am eating ice cream and with nothing left to whine about.

Thanks for all your fun comments! You helped get me through this. See y'all in ten years.

UPDATE: I'm awake enough now to read through the doctor's notes. He wrote: The quality of the prep was excellent. I'm so proud!