that idea is dildo!
Thursday, Sept. 13, 2007 at 8:10 a.m.
On This Day in 1848, a 13-pound tamping iron is blown through the head of railroad construction foreman Phineas P. Gage, entering beneath the left cheekbone and exiting the top of his head. The metal bar lands 30 yards away, taking with it much of his left frontal lobe. Gage never loses consciousness, even while the doctors examine his wound. Two months later, he is well enough to return home and resume an active life of work and travel until his death in 1860. The steel rod, along with a cast of Gage's head, and his skull, are now on display at Harvard Medical Schools's Warren Anatomical Museum.
Yikes!
Well, that makes me feel like I should chill on my own pity party, but you know how that’s going to end. Anyway, my surgery to remove the softball of goo from my abdomen has in fact been scheduled for October 2nd at 3:15 pm. Yeah, 3:15. But the worst part is . . . well, okay, here’s the thing. The last time I got sliced open to remove gooey bits from my abdomen, I had to drink a gallon of foul slime water that made me go potty every four-and-a-half minutes, a whole bottle of swill affectionately known as “Bowel Prep”, and I was already steeling myself for this indignity. Well, I got the pre-lim paperwork which has my instructions for pre-surgery, and this time, I have to endure a Three-Day Clear Liquid Diet:
Water, Black Coffee, Clear Tea (not green)
Clear Fruit Juice (no pulp, tomato, or V-8)
Gatorade
Punch
Wine
Jello
Broth and Clear Soups
Hard Candy
Non-Fruit Sorbet
Popsicles
Note that I bolded the Wine. I think that I will be drunk for those three days. I also have to practically OD on DulcoLax and take a couple of Fleet enemas. Cee-rist! I’ve already told the Hubster that he must take his meals elsewhere over the weekend, as I’m already suffering at least 4 of the 7 Dwarves of Menopause, and he’s just too good a target for my wrath . . . oh, yes, The Seven Dwarves of Menopause: Itchy, Bitchy, Sleepy, Sweaty, Forgetful, Bloated, and Psycho. Guess which ones I’m gonna be?
I suppose I have to remember that it’s just for a few days and I shouldn’t get all humpty about it.
Nah, non-humpty-ness is overrated.
Really, I’m allowed wine? That’s crazy.
But not as crazy as this:
