We made it back from our breif repreive at Seaside. Barely. I counted how many times we stopped on the way home and I totaled five. Further details on why tomorrow. Let's just say Papa Cochran will never be eating the BBQ Pork Burger with the secret Barbeque sauce from the restaurant CAMP 18 ever again. Oh dear.
But I must be brief, for tomorrow I rise for a most horrendous occassion. Tomorrow, I go under the knife and essentially face certain death. Tomorrow, I have my surgery to remove the wisdom teeth on the left side of my face. (Only removing a few at a time for insurance purposes and so I also have something to look forward to for next summer. joy). I am well aware that some people do not survive such surgical procedures but do not fear. I have taken the proper precautions. I've said my good-byes to my loved ones and have gone to confession. I'm ready for this dental battle. May the surgeon win.
Tomorrow, I shall attempt to write about Seaside despite being heavily drugged up. I'm actually hoping I'll be passed out for the entirety of the day. I'll request that actually. If I survive this thing. Fingers crossed. Pray for me.
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