In half an hour, the Palinode and I will head to the hospital to have him admitted so that his surgeon can (hopefully) fit him in for surgery this afternoon. He is going to have his lower back sliced open and have a discectomy and a laminectomy performed so that he will once again be able to do such things as walk for more than twenty feet or stand up taller than four feet or consistently put on his own pants.
The idea of voluntarily going under local anaesthetic and having your body cut open by people you do not know seems insane from this end. It feels like some people should drive by in a van and kidnap you to force you to undergo such nonintuitive, invasive treatment. I know that when I was taken down to the operating room for my hysterectomy in early July, I had a strong urge to leap off that gurney and just accept my cervical cancer as a new body part.
So, our fingers are crossed that the surgery will happen this afternoon, that everything will go as hoped for, and that he will be back in our apartment tomorrow watching brainless movies with me.
And off we go. Whee! I mean, yikes.
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