Tomorrow is Scotty's birthday.
At 10 am we meet with the cardiac surgeon so he can discuss what they'll be doing, and when. I keep trying to convince myself that tomorrow is the day we find out when he'll be saving our son's life. It just doesn't feel that way, and I'm fucking terrified. I'd rather die a fiery death than do this.
They prefer to do these major surgeries early in the week, so that during the first few days afterward, they'll actually be in the hospital, as opposed to being on call over a weekend - you know, just in case. So I'm betting that they'll want to do it on Monday, 2/20. Whenever they do it - there's a long row to hoe afterwards.