More of Gravy Than of Grave

Inspirational song: The Point of No Return (Phantom of the Opera)

I'm trying not to be too judgmental. I can't assume anything definitive about someone's skills based on my impression of the people who work for him.  I have faith in my surgeon so far. I got a really good impression off of him during our only meeting. But as forgiving as I am trying to be, I am not getting a warm fuzzy feeling from the office staff associated with him. It is my understanding that he had just started transitioning to a new location when I met him a few weeks ago, from the hospital a little closer to me to the newer one in the higher rent district in the neighboring city to the north. I've told myself that explains my difficulty getting information out of them. I've been waiting for instructions to be mailed, and they still have not arrived. I had to get them emailed, so I am set for my prep this weekend. I've called them more than I have called any other person this calendar year, and as much as I hate telephones, you know the situation is dire if I keep calling over and over.

I had a few good days over the last week, enough for me to bargain with myself, thinking maybe I was pushing too hard for surgery and maybe I didn't really need it. Then I had some bad days, and knocked sense back into myself. There's no going back now. This is necessary. The surgeon wouldn't have agreed to it on a lark. They don't humor hypochondriacs with surgery and several nights in the hospital. It's real, and I am committed. I couldn't walk this back now if I tried.

I went shopping today for my last meal. I probably won't get to eat solid food again until the end of next week, maybe even later than that. I am going to have a special Valentine's dinner with some of the people I love, and it's going to be good food to tide me over for a week. While I was hunting through the meat case for another tri-tip roast, I couldn't help but remember one of those "You know you're from Oklahoma if.." lists that went around years ago. One of the lines was, "You've thought about your final meal if you were ever to face execution, and that meal involves cream gravy." Not going to lie, I made bacon cheeseburgers tonight, and I looked at that leftover grease and considered making gravy with it, just for fun. (It's too late to do it now, it went into a dog or two instead.) Come Thursday or Friday, when I'm finally starting to eat soft foods like mashed potatoes, I'm going to wish I had it available.