The Last Piece of the Puzzle.

2 more days until Papi changes again.

I get stomach flips and heart flutters.

I'm so lucky that I have friends out in bum-fuck-nowhere who will be keeping me company and keeping me distracted.

sorry if i've offended thee with my opinions of drunks, zealots 'n pedophiles out in your area ... i'm sure your area is lovely in your world ...

My love is no longer having panic attacks from the fear.  A little Clonazepam and medicinal cannabis has Papi in a very relaxed state.

I'm not used to it.  Normally Papi is a 'Frantic Go-Getter', as one of his clients puts it.

The only thing I am not appreciating is my love's talk of death.  "Well, what if I die on the operating table?!  Then you'll need to know stuff and I have to have everything in order!"

This is the part that I hate the most.

No matter how many times I ask, "Why are you talking like this?!" I get the same reaction.

In some ways, I just want Dr. Scissorhands to get in there and get out so I don't have to hear anymore doomsday talk.

papi, i swear to your god, if you die, i will kill you ...

People have hysterectomies all the time, so this one will be just another routine surgery and it will all be ok.

It will all be ok, because everything works out.  All the time.  Every single thing.

If Papi were to leave this planet, I have a La-Z-Boy that I'll just dwell in and the Fuzzy Family can just fend for themselves.

I'm sure the last one to be standing will be Sir Bark-A-Lot.

Mind you, The Bastard Prince can get up into cupboards where there are other treasures to find for food.

The Golden would probably peter out.  He's not too good at being bad and finding food on his own.  So, The Mrs. will feast on The Golden.

G'ma and Psycho Kitty will be fine upstairs.  Psycho Kitty will just eat G'ma.

See!  It will all work out just fine.

I will reside in the Pit of Doom in my La-Z-Boy.  I've been catatonic before.  I'm a pro.

What I've done recently is completely distract myself so that I don't even have to think about all this.

You know how it is, right?  I'm so good at denial.

Last night, my sister asked me if I'm nervous about my Discovery for the motorcycle accident coming up this month.

I had to remind her that because of the brain injury, I don't remember very well, and that I'd forgotten about it, so there's no point in worrying.

However, ever since she asked that, I've remembered.

argh that sucks ... my denial has been stripped!!

Mind you, I'm probably not worried, because I have nothing to hide.

It's pretty cut and dry.  I got hit on my motorcycle, flew 15 feet through the air after tumbling over the hood of her car, and landed on my head.

There's nothing really to discuss.  I deserve to be taken care of by my insurance, which is why we pay through the nose every year.

Oh right!

Back to the denial about the surgery!

I can officially say, I'm out of denial about it.

2 more days.

All I can say is, I'm happy it's the last piece of the puzzle that we have to go through to making my spouse the person he's always felt like inside.

There will be no death.  There will be healing with 'droopy face' from all the pain meds.

It's my turn to giggle at Papi for being zonked out on pain killers.

Drool away Papi.  Your friends who believe in their higher power are all praying for you.

I'm just going to sit with the energy of 'everything always works out'.