Mushy

Many of you are used to hearing me talking about mushy things. But this time there’s a catch. We’re not talking emotion here, we’re talking food. Mushy food. Food I will be able to swallow after surgery next week.

I am a slightly… restless… sleeper. Words others have used include “scary,” “dangerous,” and “horrific.” (You know who you are.) I make horrible noises, I stop breathing, I kick, I can completely clear a bed of blankets in my sleep. It’s not pretty. Polly once told me on vacation that she thought there was a truck idling outside our hotel room, only to realize no, that was me. She also claims that I flip over completely in my sleep, but that was the same vacation where she got drunk enough to vomit for 14 hours, so her memory should be considered suspect.

I finally went for a sleep study, and was diagnosed with sleep apnea. So I did what any sensible person would do in that situation—I put the test results away for about a year and didn’t think about them. But a couple of months ago I finally saw a specialist, and this is it. I’m doing it. I’m getting my uvula cut down on Monday. No, it’s nothing dirty. It’s the thingie (thingie being the proper medical term) that hangs down the back of your throat.

I had friends offer to come with me to the surgery, but they were trumped by an offer I couldn’t refuse. My parents are coming. Of course, I’m just letting them come for their sake. It’ll make my mom feel better to be here. It has nothing to do with the fact that I’m a complete mommy’s girl. Or that every time I’ve been under anesthesia I’ve woken up crying for her (the most recent time I was 22). Or that she’s the most comforting thing in my world. No, I’m just letting them come for their sake.

So next week I’ll be eating mushy foods and sucking on popsicles. This week I’m trying to clear my desk, make lists, and in general prepare my life to go on without me while I’m recovering. Oh, and make sure my house is completely spotless for my mother's visit. Some things never change....