So on July 8, I have a date with this man:
He’s promised to take good care of me and assured me that he is indeed good at his job. He is one of the best in the country, after all.
He’s informed me that our date will be a relatively short one, which I’m okay with. It’s not like I’ll be awake the whole time anyway.
He’s also told me that I’ll be a little sore since he’ll be making 5 incisions in my abdomen, removing a goodly portion of my stomach and possibly doing a liver biopsy. But that one is only if necessary.
He’s also informed me I’ll have a short nap, a dinner of clear broth served afterward and that I’ll be clothed in the finest gown Dallas Presbyterian has to offer.
Most importantly, he’s informed me that afterward, my life will change in some pretty miraculous ways.
I’ve never been more excited, nervous and scared to have a date as I am this one.
Like I told him yesterday at our pre-op meeting, “Let’s do this!”
La Guerra de La Gorda 