Ok, I told a friend who asked me to tell my parents because if I died she would feel forever guilty that she knew and didn't stop me....shit.
So, I hobbled down the street to tell my parents (and make arrangements to go eat the Last Supper) and they took it pretty well. Prissy, the bad chihuahua, helped by appearing at the front door right after I told them and getting everyone in an uproar about how she got out.
Despite my joking demeanor, I have thought this out-it's one of those things I think about for like 10 years, research off and on, and the appear to just DO out of the blue.
But, what style-fly to Mexico, implant some hardware and then off to VEGAS baby!