Wherein I talk about my mother's guts

"Oh, so you know how my stomach has been uncomfortable for a few weeks?" said my mother.
"Uh huh," said I.
"So I got a scan, and my doctor saw something unusual, so they sent me in for another one."
"That's not good."
"And it turns out I have appendicitis."
"WHAT."
"I had to talk to a surgeon. I tried to put it off until this weekend, but they said no."
"Well, that's good."
"So the surgeon said they found something else that also needs to come out, so I get to see another surgeon, and then they'll pick a day and do it together."
"Like a relay race."
"Exactly."
"Do you need help? Are you going to dance class? Can I drive you?"
"Nah, I'm fine."
"You are not fine!"
"Meh."

So my mother is literally dancing jigs while her appendix threatens to explode. This is why she will never have a career in nitroglycerin portage.