Well, good news, bad news. Good news: I'm home, getting lots of rest and I'm going to be okay. Bad news: My wardrobe consists of boxers and Colin's t-shirts and I feel like a man woman.
I knew going in that I had a 95% chance of my surgery going one way - which would mean an easier recovery and me being back to normal quickly. Unfortunately, I was on the 5% side.
The day before surgery I went in for a manicure and pedicure because I wanted to at least have pretty nails. Unfortunately, I chose a bad fingernail color that looked like I was possibly from the morgue.
Was it black? Silver? Blue? Brown? I will tell you it looked better in the bottle.
So all night before surgery I wondered if it was a bad omen that I had dead looking nails. I kept brushing it out of my mind.
Laying on the gurney, I started feeling like I was going to cry. Would I wake up? Then one of the sweet nurses grabbed my hand and looking at my nails said, "oh! you're all ready for Halloween!" mmmm hmmm I replied. Or death! I thought to myself.
And so it went. My nails were the topic of conversation. It's the last thing I remember on the operating table and one of the first things I remember when I awoke.
Today I have one thing on my to-do list. Remove ugly polish. Replace with pretty.
And my next big goal? Lose the man wardrobe.