shoo-wee, what a week, she says inscrutably.  Good week?  Well, I am getting better every day.  Bad week?  It’s been a lot more painful than I expected…

I have discovered that in addition to our smooth dance moves and perfect pitch, Michael Jackson and I also share a love of anesthesia!!!  That’s some good shit, man.  I was flying for 2 days, really.  To those of you who received phone calls during that time, sorry or you’re welcome, or whatever, because I don’t remember what I said.

There are about 8 stitches, 4 incisions, and they gave me a wonderful ice bag for those;  they have been the least of my complaints.  You don’t have to be a nurse to figure that I’ve been fairly obsessed with pooping.  You’d think they’d invent a better laxative, wouldn’t you?  Maybe mix it in with the Lortabs.  I  think I’ve got the problem worked out…um, TMI?

So, after I landed back on the Sonnystone runway, I began to worry.  The doctor has me a little confused, partly because he spoke to Casey after the surgery (a lot of good it would have done to talk to me), and partly because he does not use a familiar metaphor to describe the size of the cysts…  I am probably most comfortable with the citrus metaphor, e.g. “size of an orange, grapefruit” , but could easily understand using legumes in this setting, e.g. “size of a walnut, pecan”.  Dr. D, however, used size of his “pinky”  (the small, hidden ovary) versus his “thumb” (the scary ovary).   He said there was a lot of “goop” he cleaned out—all this is according to Casey–and  he mentioned “adhesions”, but said all the tissue was sent over to “the guys who own the microscopes” and he’ll share the results with me tomorrow.

No matter what the verdict, Saturday is still Derby Day!!!  and I’ll be doing Something Fun…