Well, here I am in Montana. I got to my parents' place Friday night and was welcomed to a beautiful room to recover in. Mom spent a lot of time getting it ready for me, down to pretty paper lining the drawers and high shelves so I don't have to bend over to reach things. Thanks, Mom!
My folks live on 13 acres in rural Montana. Outside our windows are a few houses about a quarter mile away, but mostly the view consists of pine trees, yucca plants and lots of big blue sky. (This is Montana, after all.)
So I'm mostly unpacked and ready to fly out to Tacoma. My list of things to do has been whittled down to the following: giving myself a pedicure, loading new music onto my mp3 player, printing out my list of questions for Dr. Mayo (I'll post them later), buying some of my favorite snacks/foods that my folks don't normally have, and finding transportation from the airport to the hotel to the hospital and around the hospital.
The night before last, I had a dream about the surgery. It was the first time the thought has crept into my subconscious slumber, and it was unsettling. I dreamt that I missed my pre-op appointment but somehow had gone through surgery anyway. My scar started under my rib cage and I kept having to walk on the leg because my crutches were too far away and no one was around to grab them for me. Of course, none of this will happen, but it just left me with a weird feeling, you know?
Other than a little residual uneasiness from the dream, I'm still feeling calm and excited for the surgery. Some butterflies are starting to flutter in my tummy, but I feel strong. I feel good.