Today I had a doctor's appointment and scheduled myself for surgery. Nothing major, a "lumpectomy." They are 99% positive that the lump in my right breast is benign, but if they can put a man on the moon and Dubya in the White House ... why have a lump if you don't want to? So out it comes on Wednesday.
I am no stranger to doctor's offices. When they leave me alone in the room in my little gown to wait for the doctor, I can't resist amusing myself by listening to various things with the stethescope (Use your imagination; I do.), attempting to take my own blood pressure, inspecting my skin close up through that thingie that they use to look inside your ears, or going through any cabinets or drawers that aren't locked.
Some time ago, I had to have a test done on my lower spine that was promising to be very painful. They gave me a shot of this stuff called "Versed," and then left me alone in the room. About a minute later when it hit me, I happened to spy stacks and stacks of packages of pre-filled syringes of this delightful elixir, and couldn't resist. I was on my way off the table to "pocket" a few (since there are no pockets in those gowns, I'm not sure where I thought I was going to stash them, but use your imagination) when they came in to get me.
Today, I was in a room with a tray full of individually wrapped scalpels, lots of betadine solution, biopsy syringes, rolls and rolls of sterile cotton and gauze and those long wooden Q-tippy things, and, oh yes, I just couldn't resist these lovely pink opera length exam gloves.