I Lived!

I’ll have more of an update for you later, because I’m still a little sore and sitting up like this is not very comfortable.

But it went great.

When I was under, I dreamed that John Prine would not write a song about me and boy was I pissed at him when I came out of surgery.  Worse yet, none of my medical team seemed to know who John Prine was, so as I was bitching about his lack of cooperation, they must have thought I was crazy.

Anyway, some folks have their stories.

I’ll fill you in on the truth later.

20 thoughts on “I Lived!

  1. Well, Damn Skippy.
    I’m very glad you are doing alright. I think the entire country was sending you good thoughts and well wishes.
    Sending you much love. Now take some painkillers and ponder about if John Prine won’t write you a song, then maybe Robert Earl Keen might.
    There is a Diet Dr. Pepper from me in your future.

  2. I don’t think John Prine’s gonna write a song about me either. And like you, I’d be equally annoyed/concerned if the medical team had no idea who he was.

    Hope everything is cool.

  3. Wait. You had a Tennessee surgical staff that didn’t know who John Prine was? Are you sure that these people weren’t aliens from Planet 19?

  4. Look, I see Tommy Womack and Todd Snider once in a while. Should I ask one of them to write you a song? So glad you’re feeling chipper enough to car about music.

  5. Hooray! I was thinking about you yesterday. And my asthma seems to be acting up in sympathy with your breathing issues. Take good care of yourself. Smooches.

  6. Glad you made it and hope you have a cool scar to show off. Just make up a good story to go with it. Hopefully it won’t draw any attention away from the boob freckle.

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