Cathy's 50s housewife Friday. And a walk on the Warhol side.

Began today with Turbo Negro - f*#k the world...I see the power line and I want to taste it...best lyrics ever!

And homemade pancakes with maple butter for my two "sick" children who were both very I'll this morning, but then as soon as they knew they were staying home from school both made startling recoveries and started ordering from me as if they were on the phone to Room Service...

Regrets, I gotta few.

But considering I had my operation two weeks ago today, I am just happy to be sitting here at the computer for the first time in what seems like forever, and being able to concentrate on writing something intelligible for y'all without the cloud of surgery hanging over my head.

I know I sound like a sook but I have never had to "go under" before and I have been terrified. The anticipation, as always, was much worse than the actual procedure. I kept telling myself "you had a 10 pound 2 ounce baby with NO drugs...you can handle this!!" and in actuality the operation was nothing on that! And here I am, 2 weeks later feeling like my old self... Couldn't have said that two weeks after having Xavier the giant baby!

I was worried hat I may not make it through my surgery as I discovered Andy Warhol DIED having my exact operation, which was kinda funny. I just never knew how he died, so I googled it literally 2 months before my surgery and started to freak, randomly, panickedly asking people "do you know how Andy Warhol died? GALLBLADDER SURGERY!!!!"

No-one seemed as concerned as I felt they should have been by this information...I was making out wills and worrying who was gonna raise my children when I was dead and imagining the complete 'ho that Dan would choose when he remarried probably a yet after my death (she was a piece of work, let me tell you!!)

I had also read in the paper about psychotic doctors killing patients in Gold Coast hospitals so I made sure I discussed all this with my nurses. I specifically asked to have those particular doctors kept away from me and was assured that there were none at the Royal Brisbane. They also assured me that Andy Warhol was a completely different kettle of fish to me and that I should be fine...

They were right of course, but my little glimpse at the other side made me realise how lucky I am to be bossed around constantly by my boys and to have them, in turn, to boss around. And if making them maple syrup pancakes and have them being demanding little bastards around the house all day is the worst that happens to me today then I'll take it!

Have a great Friday, y'all, and be thankful we're alive!

Cathy xx