To this day, pregnant women pack a little bag and put it where it's at hand for the dash to the hospital. I looked at the lists of various items that Moms consider absolutely necessary and I needed exactly none of them. I did pack three Depends because: who knows if I'll be able to get out of bed, still somewhat dazed from the anesthetic and then do something stupid like trying to pee out of a window. Rather not chance it.
Much like pregnant women, elective surgery patients need to pack a bag, too. I imagine that upscale women bring their own Porthault bed linens, personal scent to spray around the room, boxes of Lady Godiva for visitors and a supply of flower vases for the offerings.
My bag is considerably simpler. Two changes of clothes (in case I get stuck here for three days, not two;) several paperback books, a sweatshirt as hospital rooms would generally also be useful for hanging sides of beef, make-up and that's about it.
I have given a great deal more thought to this morning's outfit. Ancient khaki shorts (because they are easy to peel down and pull back up as the nurses check the incision site or do whatever else that requires looking at one's derriere) and a favorite t-shirt that reads "Get Over It!" to cheer my own self. Plus I have never worn it without it getting a compliment.
A hospital, for God's sake, should be a slam dunk.
To give Staff a laugh I will be wearing a pair of fluorescent orange "Cheekies" from Victoria's Secret. I don't think many 75 year old women wear them. And this is only the second wearing for me. Lace itches.
We have to be there at 11:30 a.m. for a surgery presumed to begin at 1 p.m., into Recovery by 3 p.m., out of there by maximum 5 p.m. and then DINNER and a BIG drink of water!
To avoid the Michelle Obama Memorial cafeteria, Richie will leg it over to Guiliani's for Italian sandwiches. And so to sleep. Ready to kick ass tomorrow morning.
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