Four Weeks to Freaky Friday

It's exactly four weeks until my scheduled surgery. In twenty eight days, Lord willin' and the creek don't rise, as an old friend of mine likes to say, I should be on the road to Johns Hopkins for a little facial rearranging. I commented to a friend today that I'm looking forward to it like a hole in my head, then had a good chuckle thinking of how that's exactly what we're talking about here.

I haven't done a thing in preparation and now I'm frantic to play catchup. I don't have an appropriate chair to sleep on after the surgery. I expect to be swollen and incapable of lying on a bed for a few days afterwards. What about the physical, the lab tests, the chest x-ray, the dermatological checkup, the visit to the dentist for one last cleaning? What if somewhere along the line something unexpected crops up and the surgery is delayed? Sure, the fifth grader in me would love to see the big test canceled due to snow, but the grownup knows it's just a delay and not reprieve. What about the house? I should be at home rearranging it all, painting, throwing out all the accumulated junk, improving the bathroom and making it more accessible to someone who expects to be a bit of a mess for a few days. What about my work? How much time should I take off? Should I schedule things and just hope I'm available? Lots to think about.

What about recovery? I was thrilled to find a post on my favorite site, the parotid tumor patients forum, from someone who has the exact same surgeon. His surgery went very well - only a little facial weakness afterwards - but today I felt a little whimper of anxiety when I discovered his post about follow-up, where he referred to seeing the doctor and getting a referral to a speech therapist. Speech therapist? Why does he need a speech therapist? Did the operation hurt his speech? Does that mean it will hurt mine? We all know I talk for a living, right? I mean, I don't just talk every once in a while to communicate with co-workers or present projects. No, I talk morning, noon, and night. My living is built around my ability to talk. Heck, all three of the ways I make my living - practicing law, performing marriages, teaching college students - are built on this glib tongue. Talking is probably my second favorite activity in the world, right after reading.

Looks like the next few weeks are going to be rather stressful. I'll just have to resolve to find out from my doctor the answers to some of these questions instead of being such a wimp. Okay, maybe I'll have a few issues afterwards, but there's no reason why I can't find ways around such difficulties. Maybe the comment about a speech therapist wasn't even related to the surgery. Maybe I'll just have to say "what the hell" and move on. Stressing over it won't help. Oh well, the ball game's on - Washington Nationals v. Baltimore Orioles! Well, I can't miss that. Go Nats!