Surgery as birthday present

Not that it would be my first choice to have plates put in my face, but if I have to do it, then let's make it as interesting as possible.

Today I was to see the anesthesiologist. J and I decided the best way to do that was to eat at the Mid Eastern Restaurant before hand. She is determined I'm not taking the bus in case I do myself more damage, and for once in my life, I'll be docile.

The doctor was another one of those handsome men just out of kindergarten. English was his second language and French his third, He just came back from Boston and was raving about the city. He'd also been to New York and Washington DC and we agreed that one could live in the Smithsonian and never get bored.

Granted I did 90% of my cancer treatments in French and it's French with my internist, Franglais with my gynie, but I still prefer English. 

I told him the man who delivered my daughter was Hungarian, his nationality, and that his patients were always identifiable because he always made them wear elastic stockings. 

Then onto to see the surgeon just to make sure that the bleeding was normal. His name translated is stonefire. He remembered my ceremony with Rick is the 10th. 

"Your face will still be blue."

"That's okay, there's blue in my dress. I hope you can get it to match if I bring in a sample."

He said he'd do his best. 

So I'm ready for the surgery on my birthday.