With the clock ticking before my next procedure, I’m starting to get nervous. Could everything really go as smoothly as it did last time? Could I really be that lucky?
This should be easier than last time. It’s an outpatient operation, so I will go in in the morning and get to go home that same afternoon. I’m going to be at my doctor’s surgical suite in his office instead of at the hospital so I will be able to avoid all the hoopla there and the potential myriad of germs floating around. He won’t be cutting through muscle this time so the recovery should be easier and faster.
Despite all of those advantages, I’m still feeling a bit uneasy. Of course, that’s to be expected. Any occasion where general anesthesia is at play and you open your body up for manipulation is unsettling, I guess. In my gut, I feel that it will all be fine and go smoothly, but in my head, the over active imagination runs wild once more.
As I laid in bed the other night, I thought the worst “what if’s”. I even thought of who might deliver my eulogy (I can never think of that word without conjuring the image of Ben Stiller as Zoolander saying “yagoogaly”). Who would do it? It would be too much for my husband to take on while dealing with the girls and his own grief (which better be like Steel Magnolias/Beaches/Terms of Endearment style theatrics complete with hands thrown in the air, melting to knees and yelling “Why?! Why?!” at no one in particular). My parents and siblings shouldn’t have to do it either. Come to think of it, I think a funeral service would just be too heavy and I’m not religious anyway.
Instead, to pay tribute to my love of weddings, I would like a reception. I’d like dancing. A lot of it. A DJ playing a continuous mix of Michael Jackson, Stevie Wonder, and basically all of the awesome dance tunes from “the 80s, 90s, and today” is a must. I’d like really good passed hors d’oeuvres please (good meaning yummy, not necessarily gourmet, like pigs in blankets, crab cakes (gotta have crab cakes), etc). Please make a life size cardboard cutout of me and place it by the door to the kitchen. Anyone who really knows me knows that is where I would park myself so I had first dibs on all the food coming out. I would know every server by name and they would know me. Then I would like a baked potato bar (also with potato skins optional) and tons of toppings. And one of those guys who does pasta to order and maybe an omelette person too, why not? (Maybe some steak with chimichurri… did I go too far?) Finally, for dessert, all of the family favorites including jelly beans for the big girl, chocolate for the little one, and Costco Halloween assorted chocolate candy for my husband and my mom (don’t think I’m not still finding your wrappers everywhere, you two). Lastly, it’d be cool if everyone could say a really funny memory they have of me (and maybe a few that showed I was a good person), so everyone laughs.  Keep it light, have fun.
I’m so glad I’ve had the opportunity to express my wishes here.  It’d be weird to put this all in a legal document.  And truly, I’d like to avoid having any legal paperwork that mentions both me and Michael Jackson.

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