Go-Time

When given the option of three different surgery dates in February, February 1st seemed relatively innocuous. February 9 posed a problem because it meant being hospitalized during Josie's birthday; February 16 posed a similar conflict with Norah's birthday. Would that the surgery scheduler and I have known three weeks ago what February 1 will hold!

We're under a blizzard warning. Understand, I'm a life-long Missourian. Blizzard warnings are what happens in the northeast or in the mountains out west or 800 miles north of us. But not Missouri. In fact, the local news reported it's never happened for Missouri in history. Save for the Mississippi or Missouri Rivers getting out of their banks as they've been prone to do, I'm guessing Jim Cantore hasn't spent much time doing live updates on The Weather Channel from Missouri. All this mess of a snow prediction of apocalyptic proportions has played havoc on surgery plans, but I think all systems are go. The girls are safely at home with my mother, who when the final chapter of this saga is written will have earned her merit badge. Work responsibilities have been handed over, and the automatic work email reply has been set up. Fearing the forecast, Molly and I made the drive through some freezing drizzle tonight and are holed up in a hotel a couple miles south of the hospital. When I saw the surgeon this afternoon ever so briefly, he shook my hand and promised to be there at 6am tomorrow if I would be -- and despite the fact that University Hospital Clinics and the University as a whole is closed, I've been told nothing to contradict the our handshake deal. Molly has packed a sleeping bag and pillow and, thanks to the soon-to-be impassable roads, is with me for the long haul.

So, if all goes as planned, tomorrow is go-time. I've survived two weeks of clear-liquid diet and a near-overdose of strawberry sugar free jello. The last substance I ate was some ice cream on Martin Luther King day. The first twenty pounds has fallen off of me, including seven pounds the first day. I should be hospitalized for two or three days at most, and after another couple weeks of liquids will slowly reintroduce foods according to the strict protocol.

Incidentally, Molly has survived quite a lot more than I have, and I don't just mean my flakiness in leaving the stove burner on, forgetting to put the kids' lunch in the oven, or that inadvertant attempt to asphyxiate her by starting her car and promptly lowering the garage. I can't imagine the journey for her thus far has been a picnic, and the days ahead surely no easier. I gave her full veto rights to nix this whole notion of the surgery before it ever got off the ground, but she has never wavered. Of my love for Molly and our girls, words fail me.

Humbling also has been so many expressions of love and care from so many of you. Facebook posts, emails, phone calls, and text messages have touched me more than I can say. I'll post an update in a few days as soon as I feel able. The journey begins now!