Pedal to the Metal. Then.

Woke up this morning from a much better night’s sleep (for both of us). The sun was out. The new bedding accoutrements provided by Purse Girl and Liz last night separated my back sufficiently from the metal and plastic. And the dinner out at Lola (plus the mandatory margs) helped too. The night nurse said we were both snoring. And the day sped forward. Hubby’s progress was rewarded with news that he could have a LATTE and REAL FOOD for the first time since Monday night. He gets out the catheter. He gets out the epi. I got to shower. He may get to too. He will walk today. I’m going to wheelchair him out into the sunshine later. Happy morning.

I finally left to go grab the rewards of the labors and was anxiously watching for the surgeon the whole time. Because yesterday, as I stood in line for my latte, I spied him crossing the lobby. I nearly tackled the poor man, “Are you headed up for rounds?!” “Yes, yes, I am.” He looked scared. “Okay! I’ll hurry!” I somehow beat him back. Like the true stalker I am. So today, he obviously hid from me in the lobby. (And my coffee run has a miraculous way of coinciding perfectly with his rounds. I’m so going down in my PJs tomorrow. Boobs and all.)

He had been by and the hubby had sent him away. “My wife will be pissed if she misses you.” He looked scared again and rushed off. Then he came back. We were taking a first sip of our coffees and he walked in. “The pathology results are in and it’s a surprise.” Latte almost slipped from my hand. Hubby’s face went slack. Shitsky. “It has spread to a lymph node.” Apparently they took five and that effin effer reached out and touched one. Completely without our permission. GDMF.

Wind out of sails. Coffee turning to bile. Damn it all. Damn. And every other cuss word. But then the survival rate: still excellent. Then the fact that only one of the five was effed up. Then it is probably all OUT officially (though not cellularly). And I had to channel my silver lining friends and come up with, “Let’s think of it this way. Nothing has really changed. We were going to opt for chemo anyway. Now we just get to add radiation to that party.” My special way of balling up all the shit that’s flying around and tying it up in a nice, poop-filled bow.

The room is really, really hot. I can’t breathe. Hubby is silent. And his silence fills the room like the loudest vacuum from hell. But we’re okay. We both may puke. We both may cry. But we are still going to kick this thing on its ass. (And out...well, you remember.)

We’re just going to really, really put all of you people to a true test now. Make sure you’re really in love with us as you profess. ‘Cause now you may have to stick it out with us a little while longer....

TODAY’S THEME SONG: Life, In a Nutshell. BNL. But I don’t tend to worry ‘bout the things that other people say. And I’m learning that I wouldn’t want it any other way. Call me crazy but it really doesn’t matter. All that matters to me is she.