Today was my big chance.  Very minor surgery.  Anesthesia.  Big ass funky boot and crutches.  I finally get to be a princess.  A do-nothing, remote clicking, bell ringing princess.

The procedure was so minor- just taking some UFO’s (think foreign, not flying)  from my right foot.  The kind of thing we nurses usually resolve with a bible.  No, I don’t mean prayer.  We usually pick up a big, heavy book (like a bible) and give it a good whack.  I figured that it might be better to take no chances, and let my doctor do it.  She, however,  doesn’t believe in bible treatment. She likes surgery.

The people at the hospital couldn’t have been nicer.  The anesthesia staff was the best.  There was this “twilight zone” moment when I got to the holding area.  I was just rolling in when I heard that voice.  Texas twang with a touch of Miss Gulch.   It was the same doctor I worked with 20 years ago.  At the time she had a Phyllis Diller quality to her face, if you know what I mean.  Likes her face lifts.  Now her eyebrows had disappeared under her OR cap.  No matter- this woman is the best.  She has like 113 years of experience.  There was a lovely anesthesia nurse ready to actually run the show anyway.  After catching up on the last decade of our lives they reviewed the plan.  They used the “P” word.  As in propophol.  This is really heavy stuff.  Michael Jackson special, with the safety of licensed  professionals.   Made my day.  Guess what?  It wasn’t enough.  We went from bible therapy to general anesthesia.  Know why?  Because I’m lame.  Sorry- not in the “cant’ walk” sense.   I couldn’t hold still.  Maybe it was some kind of leg spasm, or restless leg thing.  Not likely.  I’m just pathetic.  I’m so ticklish, that even under heavy IV sedation, with a lot of numbing and everything, when someone touches my foot it tickles.  My girls at the nail shop just roll their eyes.  They will not get to hear this story.

So general anesthesia.  Woke up, felt fabulous but so tired.  When asked what I might want… just a nap.  I napped there, for hours.  Then I napped on the ride home.  Then at home… more napping.  And when I finally woke up, at 6pm, I realized that this princess didn’t have a bell to ring.  Fail! I’d have to go downstairs to be pampered.  So I booted up, and made my way down to find my dear husband sprawled on the couch.   Still suffering from man-flu.  Looking like a princess.  Seriously.  Ugh!

Son #2 was in the kitchen, about to serve up ice cream for dinner.  Sigh.  Why can’t I have a shiny bell to ring?  A cup of tea?  My injury’s not impressive, but my boot and crutches should be good for something.

Time to put on my big girl pants and stop whining.  I looked into the fridge.  Roast beef- raw.  Guess he missed that clue.  Thank God for noodle bowls.  My kids will be fine, mom duty done and I’ll be back to bed in 15 minutes.  I’m sharing an obvious and simple “recipe” in case there is someone out there who isn’t already slacking in the kitchen with flair.

Noodle Bowls

First: Boil water- seems obvious.  Then, after scrounging I found some wilted-but-edible bok choy (think cabbage).  Any vegetable that is green will do, but bok choy required cooking so I tossed some short stems of it into the water.  While water heated I slivered/sliced/chopped the last carrot (add to list), a stalk of celery, leftover green beans and a leftover breast of (fried- crunchy coating and all) chicken.  Then, I added the noodles to cook in the boiling water.  Any long noodle will do.  When noodles were almost done I added chicken soup base.  Then, using tongs  I pulled I put noodles in a bowl, bok choy on top.  Then I arranged the veggies in areas on top, chicken slices on veggies and poured the broth over the whole thing.  Don’t forget the best part- artfully place chopsticks on top .

If I had my wits about me I’d have taken a picture before my dear son at all the goodies off the top.  He does the kids thing- eats in layers, and sections until there’s only noodles and broth to enjoy.  He was just about there when I thought to take a photo.  Oh well- I’m doing a lot better than Michael Jackson, and even better than the princess on the couch. Man Flu!  Ugh!