In 12 weeks, I'll be starting back at work again. I'll be through the heavy narcotics phase, and the struggling to walk to the bathroom phase, and the hospitalized phase, and the waiting to get this damn thing started phase.
Today though, I've only just started the making appointments phase. I have an appointment with Human Resources tomorrow to complete the paperwork for my leave. I'm making an appointment for a week from tomorrow to donate the first pint of blood for transfusions during surgery.
Now that I'm less than six weeks from surgery I feel a bit like a tiny collection of snowflakes the wind just rolled down a hill. Something tells me the perceived distance from October 1st is going to decrease exponentially rather than linearly. There's so much I want to squish in to this ever shrinking space of time. I want a high-quality hair trimming (I don't anticipate being comfortable in a shampooing sink for many months after surgery). I want to finish editing the shoot we have in the can for TwoBigMeanies. I want to get in a couple social-dance nights--waltzing and swing. I want to go on ridiculous spinny rides (at the Puyallup Fair and the Wetspot). I want to laugh hysterically with my friends. I want to walk in the woods. I want to make it to another Gina Sala chanting session. I want to amass a collection of videos, books, music, and audio books. I want to spend time with my parents and their respective energetic canine companions. I want to get video record of the way I dance at Grind. I want to actually accomplish a shoulder shimmy in belly-dancing class before I can't do it any more.
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