Well, it went okay.
As normal, I wasn't there for it. One minute I'm talking to the anesthesiologist about the styles of anesthesia - ie, paralytic versys hypnotic (I don't know if thats the right term); next I know, they're asking me to slide over to the rolling chair to be brought out to the recovery area. Two implants planted; we'll see how they go. The surgeon called and gave his trademarked cheery assessment coupled with just a soupcon of lets hope this works.
You know that next time, I'll be bright and confident, right? You do? Would you like to add to your collection of major city bridges?
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Update: My wife says that I recovered amazingly well. The way she puts it, I looked, upon leaving their office, the way I had in the past after having gone home and crashed for a while. And after I slept (cratered!) for 2.5 hours, I was about 95% fine. So, not bad, that part!
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