Dad talked to me about the surgery again today. It's so weird, but I don't feel scared anymore. Funny how you're attitude changes when you're told your'e gonna die. Of course you don't believe it at first. I don't think anybody does, but it's the truth. It's like you hear their words, you know what they mean, but to you you're thinking, "I'm still here, aren't I? So how could I be dying?" But eventually the reality sets in and one way or another you accept it. When I finally did, the fear went away. How poetic. I'm not sure why, but I'm actually excited about it. Dad's a nervous wreck. I don't even want to smile around him, though, I feel so bad for him. Sometimes I think he's got it the hardest. First mom, now me? Sometimes that's my biggest reason for hoping this works out. I don't know what he'd do if he lost me too. So surgery it is. I wonder if I'll be able to tell it's not my body? Weird. So, so weird.