Sleepy time

Tomorrow afternoon, I have an appointment with an anesthesiologist. As far as I know, we’ll go over the list of questions about my health—which basically is a long list of “no’s”: no medicines, no medical conditions apart from my knee, no allergic reactions to anything, no nothing—and if he or she (I have no clue exactly who I’ll be meeting) thinks I’m physically up to it, the operation can go ahead.

There was exactly one section I had to think over for a second. First they asked if I am nervous about the operation. Well, no. Not a bit. If it fixes the problem, bring it on. The next question was if I am nervous about the anesthesia. Well, no, not really, but I’m just not quite looking forward to the part where they jam a big fucking needle up my spine.

And then I realized that I don’t mind the operation, but that I’d rather not have all the fuss that comes with it. So, if there are any volunteers for the epidural, the hopping around on crutches and the four to six weeks of revalidation / physical therapy, you know where to find me.