Come to think of it, DNR is probably not the right term, because I think that means I don't want CPR or defibrillators used on me, which isn't what I mean. I just don't want to be a vegetable. What's the point, really? Life is for living, not lying in a hospital bed. If I can't feel love, I don't want to live. Also, after about a week of being unconscious, I'm pretty sure that I'd be unrecognizable. My eyebrows would quickly morph into two giant caterpillars crawling perilously close to my eyeballs. *shudder*
The hubby just told me that since I'd be unconscious I wouldn't know the difference, and he was going to have them freeze my brain so I could wake up 400 years in the future and we'd be living on Saturn and I'd be all, "Damn him!!!" That was word-for-word. Sigh. This is a perfect illustration of why I'm writing this blog post.
I'd like to also add that if I die, he's going to need a replacement. I know I complain a lot about him, but I've got a pretty spectacular hubby here, so if you don't hear from me within at least a few weeks, come and get him!*
Well, what do I have here? It's a man--and he's looking for YOU!
I don't think I could successfully pass over to the afterlife unless I knew that my kid wasn't motherless...that is just too sad to even contemplate. I once worked in a daycare with a three year-old boy who had just lost his mother, and it was all I could do not to burst into tears every time I looked at him. Please don't let my hubby be haunted--step up and help a blogger out! Just make sure I'm dead first, please. :)
And with that, I'm off! Being that my surgery will be performed laparoscopically and is a very routine procedure, I doubt that any of this blog will be relevant but, you know--had to cover my bases. Wish me luck guys!
*(But only if you are very sweet and funny and love kids and aren't too strict and promise to keep my memory alive)