On September 2nd, 2010, I spent the day in one of the many operating rooms at MGH. I had spent the night before talking and texting to friends and family, after seeing Wicked and going back to the hotel across the street from the hospital. I cried a lot, because of the scary and fairly dangerous surgery ahead, because of the hope that this disease would FINALLY be behind me, and because of the long recovery ahead. I woke up early and walked across the street with my mom, and my dad met us there.
The wait that morning was incredibly long, my 2 other surgeries in the 9 months prior had been very early and a pretty short wait. I cried some more (no one should be surprised by this), and finally headed into the prep room. I met with my surgeon one last time, and kissed my parents one last time. As I waited in the cold, dark, cement hallway outside the numerous operating suites, a surgical resident marked the incision sites. I knew there would be many small incisions, but having the…
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