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Edited on Tue Feb-24-09 07:06 AM by Tab
Here I go, into surgery tomorrow. I'll get a phone call late today telling me what time to show up. I'll be there for about a week, and then probably another four to six weeks to recover (or so I'm told).
Never having done this, I'm somewhat unsure, to say the least. Maybe scared is a better term, but it's a good place that's doing it. Regardless, it's all pretty new to me.
I can't work at the very moment, and will be limited after I return, to consulting from home at best, assuming there's even that. The job market is scary - in places where I used to look and there was, oh, 20 new job listings a day, now there's one or two. Three at best.
I have some major qualifications in my background, and you would think that would help, but when the local Dunkin' Donuts gets 80 applicants for a part-time job, you can just imagine how much pickier things are up the ladder. It's not pretty, folks.
I do have my house, for the moment, but savings are draining - maybe a few more months, but by summer we'll be in trouble. I have that much time, with surgery in-between, to come up with and actually execute a Plan B, and I better get it right the first time.
So, it's six in the morning. And yet, little things mean a lot. Tomorrow will be a very different day for me - hospitals, and recovery, and hopefully I will recover (I should, butchaneverknow).
For today, it's snowy out, everyone else is sleeping except for my birds (Gus and Gloria), who are up early as usual. One of my dogs is licking my hand, and he has a warm tongue.
When you think about it, life is still good.
- Tab
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