The, um, surgery anxiety set in last night. I had my pre-admission appointment, where they ran a plethora of heart, lung, and blood tests and gave me my instructions and warnings. I think up to now, the whole concept of another surgery has been pretty abstract. I haven't had one in 8 years, which is my all-time record (surpassing the next longest stretch by four years), so I guess I'd conveniently blocked out or muffled the memories. Then, at home in bed, reading the booklet, the memories came flooding back.
Okay, not yet, but I did get a little panicky, but I'm expecting to need to be given some kind of medicine to help me relax on Thursday. It's official--the surgery is concrete now. The day after tomorrow. Yipe.
It doesn't help that I slept badly last night, either. I dozed off around 8:15, meaning to sleep until 3 a.m., since I was too tired to work. Unfortunately, I woke instead at midnight (thank you, crushed bladder) and couldn't get back to sleep. I lay there for three hours. Nothing. Just panic. Finally, I got up, did some work until I couldn't hold my eyes open, and I finally fell asleep...
...at 5:30 a.m. I had to get up at 6:30 to be out the door by 7:15.
My name is Niki, and I'm one tired chica.
Five more conferences to go, and I can go home and get some sleep. I have to try to do what I did last night, though, since I still have to grade eleven more portfolios and study for tomorrow's Old English final exam. Here's hoping my bladder and brain cooperate.