Just play the thing. And play it loud.
Well, another day. And another hospital visit. This is the last "pre" visit before the big day next week. First stop - more bloods for "cross-match" (in the event of a transfusion being necessary). Again the poor right arm is knackered. It surrenders before we begin. So it's a hand job again. Ouch!
And then last meeting with the Plastics Surgeon (PS) who is accompanied by his Registrar who is the most cutest, pocket-sexy doctor I have ever met. So I had a PHOAR moment. Mr PS is looking fine too. We exchange pleasantries and handshakes. He notices I have been stabbed already, courtesy of the bloods room. I confirm that I am now officially done with needles (well at least until Tuesday any way).
Then we discuss music. I agree that as it is his theatre he is entitled to play whatever music he likes, including the Foo Fighters. Now, don't get me wrong. I am not hating on the Foo Fighters. I have the utmost respect for Dave Grohl and his fellow musicians. It's just that I am not a great lover of them. I like a few tracks however, so I agree he can play them, as long as IT IS LOUD. So Mr PS is happy now. And perhaps we got off on the wrong foot last time, as the whole meeting goes extremely well. I do not have any compunction to hit him this time. All is calm. All is pleasant. We are chilled.
He goes through the consent form and talks about all the possible risks and complications. He advises me that when I come out of theatre:
"On Day One you will feel like you have been hit by a train, on Day Two you will feel like you have been hit by a bus, on Day Three you will feel like you have been hit by a car and on Day Four you will feel like you have been hit by a bike."
So I guess I am gonna feel shit for a few days. Really, really shit. So that will be fun - not. And he confirmed that I will probably want to hit him next time I see him as I will feel so rough. I said, politely "Never sir. I would never want to hit you!" (Heehee). And then the cute young registrar gives me my prescription for my clot-busting, blood-thinning injections that I will need when I get out. This time, I will have to learn to inject them into my thigh, as my stomach will be off limits. Which sounds like even more fun. I can see that the next two weeks are going to be rocking.
But the main thing. And this the most important thing. Is that the boob is coming off. And the cancer will be destroyed. Which is what this is all about really. So whatever it takes, guys, whatever it takes.
