Apologies for the long silence, dear reader. Second Edition had to go under the knife and although we're happy we woke up, we're a little dismayed that our sweet, winking belly button now looks like a sad grimace.
The drugs have been fabulous, the flowers lovely and the casseroles much appreciated, but mostly we're grateful for the people who help us tie our shoes and pull our pants up. Thanks people!
We give a Siskel & Ebert thumbs-up to the boutique surgery center where my posse was served french press coffee and macaroons while I was being prepped: stuffed into a poofy spaceman suit that was pumped full of warm air with matching slippers and mittens. I felt like Elizabeth The Golden Age...fussed over by three nurses, two surgeons and an anesthesiologist, who, when he heard the crack of anxiety in my voice, whipped a syringe out of his pocket, stuck it in the IV and said, "Smile, pretty girl. See you on the other side." And sure enough.
To think...just a few short months ago, I was one of 46 million Americans who didn't have access to good healthcare. Cheers to the State of Oregon and their Domestic Partner laws.
Okay, tired now. Good night.