Surgery; Wagging the Dog

I go in tomorrow for my 3rd surgery (in 14 months) for removing the malignant melanoma I gave myself after sunning for years with Crisco on my skin, being a lifeguard for a decade and swimming in outdoor pools with nary a drip of sunscreen on me.

No white-skinned, blue-eyed person should have that many freckles brought by the sun fairies.

Anyway, after the last surgery debacle, the doctor and I decided to do the next surgery in his office and decide what works best next time after this office surgery experience. I agreed wholeheartedly, after being terribly mis-managed physically in the Operating Room last time.

Tomorrow, March 8, 2021 at 3:00pm is the surgery.

I had 2 virtual meetings with the surgeon (whom I adore) as we planned the surgery. I asked for a sturdy chair with no arms so I could sit on it and lean over the exam table while he used local anesthetic on me. He thought that was a clever idea and solution to my teetering on my side for an hour (or more) on the exam table. I also asked if I could please have a Bariatric Gown and he said that was easy.

How hard is it to have chairs without arms available? Costco sells them, for crying out loud. And I am HARDLY the fattest person on earth who goes to their offices. Why have I been struggling with this chair issue for 40+ years?!?

So when I called Thursday to make sure everything was in place, they said they knew nothing about any of that, there were no chairs without arms in their office and they did not have bariatric gowns, either. I calmed my anger for a few minutes to explain why I needed these things… and, by the way, the office knows me WELL, how fat I am, disabled, etc. I make them all laugh and we always have fun.

Until now.

I called on Friday and the surgeon’s nurse said I would be placed on the Bariatric Exam Table they have and they would “try” to get a bariatric gown for me. “The doctor never told us about a chair (she said almost spitting).” I decided there, that even if I cannot order my own chair, I would order my own fucking gown and carry it around for myself.

Solution Power!

Anyway, after I hung up and had a good frustration cry, I regrouped my senses and thought about how I can make this as pleasant as possible. Not enough time for a gown, but will bring a sheet with me to cover myself with.

The teetering on the exam table took a few more hours to find a solution.

My U-shaped body pillow! I took the cover off, washed and bleached it and then put it in a ziplock bag. I will carry my body pillow and my comforting supplies (more on that in a moment) and re-dress the pillow when I am in the surgery room. I can hold/cling to that as I am on my side and it will keep me immobile.

Music to My Ears

I am bringing my tablet set up to play my George Winston Playlist, starting with Autumn, then December and on and on. There are 5 hours of George Winston; I doubt I will need that much.

Earbuds are in my purse, along with my Ibuprofen and MY SIGNED NOTIFICATION OF HAVING DIABETES SO I CAN GET THE COVID VACCINE! Not that anyone tomorrow will be giving me a shot, I am carrying that sucker around just in case.

My Golden Ticket

Ready to Wag the Dog/Run My Surgery!

I will holler when I can about how things went. I feel MUCH better writing this out. Thanks for listening!

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