Snip snip--
Left hand was done at 8:00 this morning. I mean DONE. Got there at 5:45, had me in a paper dress by 6:30, on the gurney at 7:30, sipping coffee at 8:00. The only reason for the hour between the prom dress and the knife was the repetitious questioning about meds, allergies, vices (my cigars), etc. Everyone who walked into the room had to ask the same questions, including demanding that I recite my first middle and last names and date of birth...
Two observations; 1) Apparently I talk in my sleep, and 2) Vicodin ROCKS!
Surgeon says I prattled on about Rush Limbaugh and Saddam Hussien, neither of which I ever painted for...
Fingers are stiff, but they move. The bandage is almost as big as my head, comes off on Wednesday.
The anesthesiologist told me that the sedative has an amnesiac effect, and he was right--I remember none of it.
I'm typing this with one hand. The shift key is something I can do without...
Thanks for the thoughts, everyone, we'll do this again in two weeks...
