Of surgery and deadline.

The alarm went off and I knew there's no way I can negotiate with the snooze button. I've hit it once already. I needed to get up and get going. The warm shower was helping wash away my anxiety. I realize it'll be easy and quick for me to get ready, just a
some (and matching) undergarments, yoga pants and a white Fallon Greenwave basketball shirt and I'm good to go. No make up, no jewelry, no contacts - that's what the nurse told me.

Yesterday was the day of my surgery.

They found I found a lump on my left breast, got it all checked at the base clinic, had an ultra sound to make sure it's really a lump and long story short, they need to take it out to make sure it's benign and not damaging in the long run.

So there I was sitting in the lobby. I was reading David Lord Stewie's hilarious tweets. Laughter is something that puts me at ease. That and Stewie's tweets were really obnoxious and funny.

Nurse Cathy called my name. I wanted to run towards the nearest exit and forget about this whole thing. The thought of having a surgery doesn't really scare me. What bothers me is the mere fact that they have to put IV on me. That stupid needle is a pain in the ass. I have such small and not so visible veins. I've been traumatized. 13 years ago, I had the same medical procedure and guess what, I had been poked and pricked so many times, I actually have sympathy for voodoo dolls!

Luckily, Nurse Cathy knows what she's doing. She's been doing this for 33 years, she says. Yeah right, I thought. But she proved me wrong when all it took was one try and she got the IV on my hand! Rockstar, that's what I called her afterwards. She even admitted herself that it's hard to find a vein in my hand and they're so tiny but she managed. It hurt but I'm not complaining.

The doctor came and talked to me prior to the procedure. I remember the nurse injecting something to relax me, and it relaxed me alright! I remember vaguely her wheeling me out of the pre-op room and all I said was, "wheee! roadtrip!". How embarrassing! Haha!

Next thing I know, I was already at the recovery room. I was so sleepy and have never wanted to sleep so bad in my entire life. I told the nurse I want to go home so I can sleep comfortably in my bed. David helped me get dressed since I can't even stand on my own. Maybe that's how it feels to be intoxicated? I'd never know because I have yet to get drunk.

I slept the rest of the day. I woke up later that evening, walked to home office and sat in front of the computer to finish my article. Yes, even through that whole ordeal, I was thinking of my deadline. I need to get it done, after all, I've been procrastinating the entire weekend.

So I am might proud of my article for tomorrow's paper - 02/09/11 . People won't know but I do, and a few of my readers will do too, that article was written on the same day I came out of surgery, light-headed, anesthesia wearing off and all.

If that's not total dedication, then I don't know what.