Under the knife: Um, you're going to do What to me?

Tomorrow's the big day.  I am far from thrilled, but at this point in the journey, I have to do what I have to do.  If my doc told me to stand on my head and lick dog poo while singing the Barney theme song, I would do it quickly and proudly if he promised me I'd get KTFU (knocked the F up, for those who aren't hip to the lingo). 

Anyhoo... my laparoscopy is scheduled for tomorrow at 2pm.  The day is gonna go a little like this:
-Wake up, be really thirsty and hungry, but not allowed to have anything after midnight
-Be at my doctors office at 10:45 & bring urine sample so that they can dip a pregnancy test (ironic, right?) 
-Surgery Center by noon for prep, get IV (should be fun with my awesome veins), still be hungry. 
-Surgery at 2

How does a lap work?  Me, being an OCD crazy worrier, I have researched a little for myself, and for you guys I guess. 

First off, it starts with general anesthesia and intubation for a breathing tube... sounds great already, right?  A lot of things I read said they scrub your belly and pelvis down with "special soap" ~I hope it is coconut scented~ and sometimes will shave your pubic hair ~wonder if I can request a sweet-ass design?~  Dr. Moon-Dog will then make an incision in my belly button, insert a hollow needle, and fill my abdomen with nitrous oxide gas.  Next, the insert the thin lighted tube (laparoscope) and take a look around.  They are looking for things like endometriosis, scar tissue, cysts, basically anything that is not supposed be there.  If they find anything, the laser/peel it away right then and there - wham bam thank ya ma'am.  They release the gas (probably wouldn't be good to leave it in there, have me wake up from anesthesia, and look down to see a belly that looks 8 months pregnant... that's corporal punishment for an infertile), stitch me up, and start the process of waking me up. 

Please find this shiz!  

Dr. Moon-Dog told Ryan that he'd come out and talk to him after he was all done.  He said to be prepared for one of two scenarios:

(1) I'm going to wake up and be pretty pissed off because he found a mess of crap in there and that means we wasted thousands of dollars and months of time with treatments that didn't have a chance to work.
(2) I'm going to wake up and be pretty pissed off because he didn't find a damn thing, which means we still have no reason that we haven't gotten KTFU
**Great options, right?  I guess doing this enough, he pretty much knows how us crazy infertiles rationalize good and bad news**

I guess then I wake up and stay in recovery for 2-4 hours, then make the long drive home.  I've been told I'll be down and out for the entire weekend.  I'm scheduled to work for half a day on Monday, and I'm pretty sure I'll be seeing patients in yoga pants (I can picture Chelsea Handler saying to me "I ain't mad at ya, girl" in response to that... I really wish she was my friend in real life). 

I'm nervous, not happy about it, but there's a glimmer of hope that I might be waiting for me afterward.  I really hope he finds a giant freaking mess in there, cleans that shit up, waxes and spit shines my baby maker, and it clears the way way for a positive result in our March cycle.  A girl can hope, right?

See you guys on the flip side...