paperback writer

I've liked Dr. Bacon from the start. I don't know if it was the twinkle in his eye, the tanned skin suggesting he appreciates time in the outdoors, or the calm and confident way he talked about my procedure, making me feel from the very beginning that it was not nearly as big of a deal as I'd previously thought. Overall I was completely satisfied and happy with my doctor and didn't think he needed to do anything to further prove himself to me.

Well, Dr. Bacon, you've outdone yourself.

So there I was, Friday morning around 7am, lined up outside my local Borders, desperate to get an orange wristband that would be the key to my being one of the first in the Provo/Orem area to obtain a copy of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. As I stood chatting with Mandy, I noticed that a few spaces behind me in line was Brother Simpson, a former bishopric member of mine. Sorry to any non-LDS reading this and confused by the lingo--just go with it. Naturally Brother Simpson asked me all about what's been going on with me lately and one of the first things to come up was the fact that I've had a pretty ridiculous year, health-wise. I told him about my thyroid troubles, and then told him in a few weeks I'd be having surgery to have my spine straightened, because I had scoliosis. At this, I noticed the man directly behind me in line perk up and whip his head around to listen to my conversation. Normally I'd be slightly put off by such blatant eavesdropping, but I have to admit that it kind of is a weird/interesting thing to overhear someone talking about, and I'd have probably eavesdropped too.

After talking to Brother Simpson a few more minutes about it, I managed to get a glimpse of the face of the man so obviously listening to me talking, who was now smiling about what I was saying. It wasn't just some creep who was morbidly amused by the idea of major surgeries--Dr. Bacon! I wasn't entirely sure it was him, because I've only actually seen him in person once, and apparently scrubs and glasses make a big difference in a person's identifiability (pretend it's a word). Maybe Superman's disguise wasn't so far-fetched after all.

Once I recognized him and was fairly sure it was indeed C. William Bacon, MD, I asked, "hey, are you my doctor?" to which he replied, "are you Madam Keck?" Three cheers for doctors who remember their patients names. And about eighty seven cheers for doctors who spend their Friday mornings waiting in lines to get Harry Potter books Friday nights. This is definitely the doctor for me. It was pretty funny, plus I got a free consultation while standing in line. Not bad.

Oh, he recommended that I only fix the top curve. So, there's that.

drive my car

One thing I've been wondering about my surgery recovery is when I'll be able to drive again. When I had my thyroid removed in January, I discovered that even though I felt pretty healthy overall after a few weeks, I still couldn't drive due to the acute pain I found myself in at even the slightest turn of the head. It was pretty frustrating to feel normal besides that one little thing, but to still either be stuck at home or be totally dependent on others for rides. I suppose I could have risked it and driven anyway, throwing peripheral vision to the wind, but I'm too much of an obsessive blind-spot-checker for that to have ever worked. So naturally I'm concerned again about how long I'm going to have to go without spending any good quality time with my darling Civic, and today I learned the answer. Four to six weeks. Egads! That is a long time of being chauffeured around! Granted, the majority of that time I won't want to be leaving the comfort of my bed anyway, but I have a feeling that I'm eventually going to want to be able to get up and go and my body won't want to let me. I guess it will be my own little taste of what it's like to have a suspended license. No worries about me pulling a Paris Hilton though. I promise I'll stay off the roads until I'm fully capable of looking all the way over both shoulders.

twist and shout

I'm not normally one for taking pictures of myself in a swimsuit and posting them on the internet, but here's the exception. I need to have some "before" photos to compare with my post-surgery ones later. So with the help of the self-timer on my camera, I snapped a few. I need to take a few more, specifically one from the other side so you can tell the difference between my two sides, but these will have to suffice for now. This post is rated PG-13 for partial nudity.