2 Days Pre-Surgery #2: A Cat's Life is the Life for Me

Two days and counting. 

THE BOX

It's here. The UPS truck pulled up. I was trying not to watch for any delivery trucks, but I obviously was not successful at avoiding that.

"I think this is it..."

Ryan's phone rings and my suspicion is confirmed. My equipment is here and my surgery is rapidly approaching.

Think about the last time you went to an amusement park. Did you get a souvenir coffee mug? T-shirt? Water bottle, perhaps?

Me too. And little did I know, having eye surgery is up there in the same category as an amusement park visit. Maybe I should get a shirt that says, "My eye detached its retina and all I got was this lousy t-shirt." Oh, and my eyesight. I did get (or will soon get, rather) my eye sight back to near normal.

Souvenir!

Also, if you have a cat, I am forewarning you- he or she WILL try to take your recovery equipment and claim it as his or her own bed within minutes of unpacking it. And when you put a sheet over it to try to make it more comfortable, you may as well throw up a white flag because your cat has declared ownership. The only effective source of removing such cat would be treats, LOTS of treats.

Keiko. The cat who steals your bed. And your heart.

So you may have some grand illusion that the equipment is like sitting on fluffy little clouds that cushion you in all the right places. The people in the photographs in the brochure look like they're having so much fun. Even the instructional DVD says, "use the convenient travel block when visiting friends, family, or traveling to doctor's appointments!" Gotta love the enthusiasm. HOWEVER, I truly to not anticipate being quite as content sitting in the chair all day as they seemed for the five minutes it took to photograph that shot. But you never know...

After fussing with all of the settings to make the chair the correct height, I situate myself in it to make sure I could maneuver the mirror correctly to see the TV. Now, if there was a burglar sneaking up on me from any angle except DIRECTLY in front of me (well, directly in front of my mirror), I'd be robbed. Or maybe I'd hear him approaching because of his chuckling from how funny I look. Either way, my ability to see anything going on around me is basically eliminated when I'm in that chair. 

Having everything here made it very real. I spent most of the day nervously trying to avoid the fearful thoughts of surgery. Tomorrow is the day. The last day I will remain vertical. The last night I will sleep with no constraints. The last day I can drink out of a cup without a straw. For a long two weeks. But the last part isn't too bad, straws are manageable...

I did find reinforcement that the newspaper is unfortunately an obsolete source for most people (not me, I like the actual paper), except the day after an AFC Championship when every person in Baltimore wants a front page to frame. Maybe that's what will keep it alive! Maybe?? Thanks Ravens, 49ers. Thank you for giving me a Super Bowl to REALLY look forward to watching in two weeks!