On Monday I had my pre-surgery appointment.
It was magical, they drew blood. poked at my stomach, took medical history. They also drew a lovely black spot on my tum. They then covered it with a weird medical tape and told me if the tape falls off and it starts to fade, that I need to draw over top of it.
They also informed me that my surgery has moved. Instead of it being next Friday, it's now on Tuesday. Which means I am really running out of time. I had planned for a leisurely weekend full of gluttony, alcoholism and general debauchery. Followed by a couple days of recovery, and then the last meal, and then surgery.
Now it is all fucked up, because they needed my slot for someone else*. It's not like I'm calling a restaurant for a last minute reservation, I booked this shit back in February. My wonderful room mate has agreed to run around buying stuff for me, provided that I make a list**.
I need to figure out what the last solid food to go through my colon is. If I'm lucky I'll have an epiphany in a drunken haze and figured out what it will be#*.
*With that said it is for a cancer patient, but I need to assume that there are other patients who aren't as prepared as me.
** I cant make lists, I blank out every morning when I buy my standard breakfast of poptarts milk and cigarettes and the variety store#.
#Because I care about nutrition
#*As opposed to the last time I was in a drunken haze a long time ago^ and had a conversation with my mother, she called the following week and I had no recollection of the conversation ever taking place.
^By "a long time ago" I mean last week.
It was magical, they drew blood. poked at my stomach, took medical history. They also drew a lovely black spot on my tum. They then covered it with a weird medical tape and told me if the tape falls off and it starts to fade, that I need to draw over top of it.
They also informed me that my surgery has moved. Instead of it being next Friday, it's now on Tuesday. Which means I am really running out of time. I had planned for a leisurely weekend full of gluttony, alcoholism and general debauchery. Followed by a couple days of recovery, and then the last meal, and then surgery.
Now it is all fucked up, because they needed my slot for someone else*. It's not like I'm calling a restaurant for a last minute reservation, I booked this shit back in February. My wonderful room mate has agreed to run around buying stuff for me, provided that I make a list**.
I need to figure out what the last solid food to go through my colon is. If I'm lucky I'll have an epiphany in a drunken haze and figured out what it will be#*.
*With that said it is for a cancer patient, but I need to assume that there are other patients who aren't as prepared as me.
** I cant make lists, I blank out every morning when I buy my standard breakfast of poptarts milk and cigarettes and the variety store#.
#Because I care about nutrition
#*As opposed to the last time I was in a drunken haze a long time ago^ and had a conversation with my mother, she called the following week and I had no recollection of the conversation ever taking place.
^By "a long time ago" I mean last week.
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