Laurel is having a minor surgery today in Encino, so I drove her up to the clinic and am waiting in the cafe next door for her. The front desk secretary is supposed to call me when she is in the recovery room and I will go in and talk to her until she is coherent enough to go home. She had a similar procedure last month, and when she came out of anesthesia she was very cute. “What time is it? I feel funny. Did you like your tea? How long was I under? I feel funny. What time is it? Have I asked these questions before?”
I am hoping everything goes smoothly again. I told her if she becomes a vegetable, I’ll have to pull the plug. She wasn’t too happy about that.