Its time for another episode of Mr Wombat has insomnia! I swear to Christ, antibiotics are going to be the end of me.
I got a call from the hospital today to let me know there wouldn't be a bed for me tomorrow (wednesday) but would I mind terribly fasting from midnight tomorrow and coming into the hospital at eight AM on thursday for a drive-thru operation. I figure that the less time spent eating hospital food the better I'll fell so I'm okay with that idea.
Which isn't to say I'm not bricking it about the operation itself. Call me a wuss if you like but there's something about letting a complete stranger put you to sleep (with an as yet unresearched odds that it will be permanent) and poke around in your face that brings out the fight or flight response in a guy. Sedated or no, they might want to restrain me in case I punch the surgeon in the balls.
Which reminds me, I have to make a donation to some kind of Nurses' pissup fund and another to some kind of fund that hires people to beat the holy hell out of people who complain when they strike for pay. You couldn't pay *me* enough to have cleaned that half mug of blood and crap off my face, never mind some poor sod who just spent half an hour cleaning up the mess left by some dipshit who couldn't be bothered keeping up to date with the simple post-op procedures and blames them for the infection consuming his head.