I've researched, I've explored my feelings, I've talked about it, I've blogged about it. I've cried, I've laughed, I've backpeddaled, I've reasoned my way back. I've made lists, I've planned, I've prepared, I've filled out advanced directives. I've given more blood than a broke college student, had 37 different electrodes pasted to my body for a sleep study, and had a foot long tube snaked down my throat. I've been on a liquid diet for two weeks. TWO WEEKS.
And it all comes down to tomorrow at 7:30 a.m.
Most of my close friends know I have a borderline obsession with the television show The West Wing. I've got the whole series on dvd, I DVR the reruns on Bravo eventhough I've seen them all a thousand times, and I still cry when Bartlet gives Charlie the carving knife on the Thanksgiving episode.
One of my favorite episodes was on the other day. The President is preparing for the final debate of his second campaign. His opponent, played by James Brolin, was a thinly-veiled George W. Bush character. As the President was getting ready to walk out onto the debate floor, his wife Abby tells him, "Game on, boyfriend."
"Game on" has become a bit of a rallying cry for me and my mom. Whenever one of us has a big interview, or meeting, or some other challenge, we tell each other, "It's time to stop screwing around. Game on, girlfriend."
So, I guess that about sums up how I'm feeling this morning.
GAME ON.
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