There's a few reasons as to why more of this site's content doesn't revolve around anecdotes and gripes from my day to day life. The first would be that, simply put, I don't think a detailed account of my belly button fluff's colour and consistency would make for good reading. The second stems from a reluctance of mine to wind up sounding like every ten-a-penny, shit-fest blog that stagnates the internet with it's mundanity. If you're lucky enough not to know what I'm talking about, just visit any blogger page and merrily peruse their's and other author's offerings with the "Next Blog" facility. What ensues will, I am sure, turn out to be no less than pure digital valium.
That said, there's one upcoming event from my life that I must take to the online stage, the very reason that I'm still here, slumped over my computer at this ungodly hour:
Today, I am having a hip replacement.
Consenting to this procedure has been a choice which has plagued my consciousness for some two years now. Even now as I sit here typing, mere hours before I'm due to be admitted for the operation itself, I can't help but feel awash with reluctance for the decision I've made. What if it goes wrong? What if I get an infection? Do I really want to set myself up now for a lifetime of decadely surgery? These are just some of the questions niggling away at every fibre of my being for the several thousandth time or so this past week.
At the risk of sounding melodramatic, I also can't seem to shake from my mind that there's a chance (albeit ever so small) that I could die today on the operating table. Grim as it may be, I've began thinking of things in terms of potential lasts: Last time I read my daughter a bedtime story, last time I hug my family good bye, last time I enjoy a nice pickle and cheese toasty or have a shave even! The thing I seem to be able to quickly remind myself of is that tomorrow's prospect of death could be even slimmer, if I change my schedule to sitting in my favourite armchair, eating biscuits and feeling my ass groove grow bigger.
I hope I'll look back on these words to consider myself ridiculous for thinking them in the first place, much less typing them. And I'm sure i will.
In the mean time, I hope you'll pardon the scared ramblings of a man who's reached his maximum occupancy for shear terror. All going well, I'll have an update within the week. Wish me luck.
Update (04/04/09): Hurting like hell but still kicking. Looks like you'll need to find another occasion to wear that swanky, new black tie! Come back soon for a blow by blow of my gripping ordeal. Up to and after, going under the knife.
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