Well, tomorrow's the big day: My Freaky Cyborg Hip gets it hardware upgrade to V. 3.0 and I get to star in a remake of "Dude, Where's My Dignity?" (Actually, depending on what drugs they give me, it actually might be more like "Dude, Why Are There Small People Sitting on My Feet Singing 'Hey, Mr. Tambourine Man?'") IMPORTANT NOTE TO SELF: Do not update your work Facebook page while whacked out of your tree on painkillers. If only there was a way to lock your Facebook account so you have to take a skill-testing question to post a status update like there is with Gmail. Oh well.
As per usual, I've been overestimating my readiness for the surgery. Last time around, I was diligent: my walker, cushion, sock aid, shoehorn and elastic-laced shoes were lined up like little soldiers ready for battle. My rooms were de-cluttered with a post-hip-replacement body in mind. My bags were packed according to the hospital-approved checklist. I had read the "What to Expect When You're Becoming a Cyborg" (AKA the hip-replacement preparedness manual) back to front. I was like, "Dude, bring it on. I've got this."
This time around: It's 9:30 pm, I have to get up at 4:30 a.m., I have yet to pack anything, my post-hip-replacement bolster is covered in dust, there are piles of clothes strewn all over my room in a manner reminiscent of the $5 sale at Old Navy and I'm really more interested in downloading the "Angry Birds" game for my new Iphone. Yes, I am officially a card-carrying member of the Hipster Society. Good thing I can't wear skinny jeans for another 6 or 8 weeks due to post-surgical swelling, because you could write me off.
In the dreams I've been having about this surgery, I watch the operation while floating above as the events happen in fast-forward while the song "Grounded" by Pavement plays. Yes, even my subconscious is a hipster.
Oh well. Wish me luck. I check in at 6 a.m., my surgery will be around 7 or 8 a.m. and beyond that...Lord knows. Considering that the surgery plan is "open me up and see what's in there and hopefully put my ass back on," what kind of surgery I'll end up getting is really anyone's guess. Either way, Arley Version 2.0 will be a thing of the past and it's time for Arley 3.0: Now with Reattached Ass. And hopefully lasers.
Hopefully, the next time you hear from me, I'll be new and improved and only slightly spelling like a crack-addicted LOLCat. I'll try to update as soon as possible. Too bad I don't have a Twitter account because morphine tweets (Tweaks?) might be really awesome.