Drugs and death

Today had an unusual start... I got to sign my name on several documents verifying that I understand that death is a possible, yet unlikely, outcome of the surgery I'm having in a couple of weeks. Umm, yeah. I'm actually not freaked about the death part, I've focused much more of my freaking energy on things like profound nausea from the general anesthetic (which I had with surgery 20 years ago) and the fact that they won't let W into the recovery room with me.

At this morning's appointments I took the opportunity to explain to all who would listen my bad experiences being put under as a teenager and they made appropriate noises about pre-medicating me to keep that from happening again, so I feel somewhat better about that. And I've got two weeks to wrap my brain around the rest of it, including the fact that I will be laid up for a couple of weeks and on crutches for "a while"... Any chance that I might chicken out of the surgery has probably been eliminated by the fact that I'm not allowed to take any ibuprofen for the week leading up to surgery. No pain meds for a week? Yeah, I'll probably be really ready for that hip to get fixed.