The big day

Tomorrow is the day of my (not that) long-awaited surgery. I'm working from home in the morning before my date with The Vagina Artist in the afternoon. Bow-chicka-bowow! Oh, wait. The Husband is coming with me, so that's not nearly as sexy as it sounds. Even if the doctor is kind of hot. I mean, he'll be up to his elbows in my hoohah. There's just no bringing sexy back from there.

You'd think after a tumour removal during pregnancy and an C-section under a general I'd be kind of blase about a little polyp being taken out with a glorified vacuum and a really long straw. I'm not. I'm kind of dreading the whole thing. But what it boils down to is this: I want another baby. To have another baby, I need to undergo fertility treatments. They won't start the fertility treatments until I have the surgery. So off I go!

I'm dusting off some old faves from a now-defunct journal for your reading pleasure while I recover. Now I'm going to take an extra long time cuddling The Parasite at bedtime so I can remind myself why this is all worthwhile. G'night!

Life with a Parasite has been nominated as a contender for the Circle of Moms Top 25 Canadian Mom Blogs. Please vote for me. You can vote once a day until November 17th. Thank you in advance!

Would you like fries with that?

I think most sales tactics are pretty transparent when you know what to look for, and none is so crystal clear as is... the dreaded upsell. You're already here, why NOT supersize those fries? Or get the purse that matches the shoes? Or upgrade to the "Sport" package? FYI: There is nothing "Sporty" about the "Sport" package on a family hatchback.

I had a consult with the surgeon last week. I anticipated a little chat about what to expect before, during and after the procedure. Maybe a nice, hot cup of tea or cocoa or something. I was NOT, however, expecting another date with the ultrasound wand. Fantastic! Good thing I showered before the appointment. Anyway. I'm having the surgery done at a private clinic. I wondered what business model allowed a private clinic to be profitable in a country with public health care. Now I know, and I kinda wish I didn't. The doctor doing my surgery spends most of his days performing labiaplasty.

So there I was, with an unexpected wand in the hoohah, when the doctor who spends the majority of his days making other hoohahs look prettier noted everything "down there" looks perfectly normal. Ummmmm. Thank you? But did I *REALLY* need to know, as I'm there at half past the asscrack of dawn, with an unexpected wand in my hoohah, that you were also evaluating my upsell potential? GAH!