T-minus one day and counting. On the plane ride over the reality of it all hit me. Who am I kidding though? The reality of having my stomach removed hits me all the time. Especially at the most inopportune times. Namely, yesterday I was watching my daughter perform her musical freestyle dressage show and at one point the music was robustly thematic and she made the horse go into an extended cantor (not really sure what this means, but this is what I am told my daughter and horse are doing) and I started to ball. Seeing as how I was out in public a full on mental breakdown seemed inappropriate at the venue, I had to bite the inside of my mouth so hard that instead of stopping the tears, I almost drew blood. 

It also hit my while landing in San Francisco, where I will be having my surgery. It is far from a pleasant trip. The flight attendant on landing said something to the effect of “Have a great time if this is your final destination.” And I felt like saying, “Nope, not going to be having a great time. Sorry lady.” I sort of wonder if this will forever taint my view of San Francisco? I only say this because the last time I was here I had the flu while on vacation and was miserable. The most memorable part of that trip was finding Nyquil. 

On the plus side, now that we are on the mainland—aka not in Hawaii— I can get some legit Mexican food. I just stuffed my face with two tacos al pastor and a burrito with carne asada. Nom nom. I am enjoying this painfully full feeling I have right now, because it will be one of the last times I will ever feel that again.