Easy Peasy Lemon Squeezy

Surgery was so easy, the third time around, I could hardly stand it.  With no wires to install, no tracers to inject, and a surgery time of 3PM, the BFF and I weren't even required at the hospital 'til 1PM.  After that, it was check in, loll about in my room, try to ignore my rumbling stomach, and wait for the gurney that would take me downstairs.

I shared a room, this time, with a woman who was in for her first round of chemo after having surgery to remove a tumor in her neck, and part of her tongue.  Further evidence that I've gotten off lightly.

After autographing my right shoulder, as usual, The Dutchman told me Sunday's MRI revealed no surprises, so the surgery we discussed was the surgery I would have.  I'd been secretly concerned the MRI would somehow be a game-changer and I'd come out of OR with the bosom of a 9-year-old.  As it was, he spent about twice as long with me as expected -- surely he knew this would be his last chance to see me naked! -- but reported later to the BFF that everything went very well, and I'm going to be fine.

Was there ever any doubt?