Year of the Tiger

I'm back home, out from surgery, a lot less debilitating this time.

I'm not sure why. Could be that the first time, I awoke with a log-shaped air tube down my gullet and a feeding tube in my nose. Meds up the wazoo, especially heavy-duty pain meds. Just before this latest event, I was asked if I had any questions and I said yeah, was all that invasion necessary? Well, maybe not, we'll see. This time, I awoke with no tubes, and right now I'm on percocet.

Plus this time I weighed a lot less. That probably helped.

So if you're going in for surgery, I guess the message is get fit and speak up.

Also the omens were good. Mardi Gras. Winter Olympics. Valentines Day. And we are going into my year, the Year of the Tiger. Doubly my year, in fact, since 1950 and 2010 are the years of the Yang Metal Tiger. (The Chinese add one of their basic elements to the 12 "zodiac" signs.) (I have no idea what any of this means, but as usual Wikipedia has a lot to say.)

I don't really know the details of the surgery yet - exactly what was found, what wasn't found, what comes next. Right now I have a sore throat and a droopy thing when I smile, makes me look kind of sneaky.

But I'm back, and best of all, as ever, were the hugely-appreciated words of support. Thanks to one and all. The tiger is back, grateful, and ready to prowl.