Personal Growth....but its coming out the side of her neck -by Adam

I have more than a little guilt about how this whole surgery thing has come about. For the fourteen years I have been with Amy she has been hyper-sensitive to the potential presence of tumors, growths and illness of all kinds. So when she mentioned a small growth in her neck a few months back, my first thought was that she might be crying wolf. After she visited the doctor and had the scan done, I felt the sting of guilt...and then the more disquieting feeling of dread. As she prepared for Monday's surgery, I was impressed at how much strength she exhibited, and how all of the thoughts and prayers her friends and family buoyed her.

When we arrived at the hospital, we were greeted by the panic stricken voice of the mall cop turned hospital security guard warning us to stand back and make way for the bomb sniffing dogs. Serious. The waiting room full of people with real problems was treated to a brief imaginary one for a change as Chuckie led his German Shepard "Bo" to a large box that had been left in the hallway. As it turned out, it was just a box of "fluids", and Chuckie and Bo left as suddenly as they arrived. I couldn't help but think some of the people in the room were a bit let down, but Amy and I, being optimists, were happy with the explosionlessness of our check-in.

We had a good time hanging out in the waiting room for an hour or so. I rubbed Amy's legs while we both talked about how it was all going to be OK. I have felt calm all along, but afterwards I had to wonder if other people have come in feeling confident, and left feeling lost.
Once she went back, I was taken to an awfully posh private waiting room that would have put most of the hotels in Canada to shame. A generous room with a couch, a desk, DVD, TV, a recliner and a fridge. As it turned out the fridge was full of Pepsi. Friggin Obamacare, we knew it wouldn't work.

I spent most of the 2 hours by drawing this card for Amy. I didn't have time to ink it, or to write the text, but when I am done it will be like all my cards, trashy and thoughtful at the same time. When the doctor came in he told me the operation was very smooth, and that the growth looked like the kind of tumor that is always benign. Huge relief. As I said, I had been pretty peaceful, but I can only imagine how it would have felt if it had gone the other way. The doctor said he was confident enough to complete the operation with a fat graft. If the growth was cancerous, they would leave the cavity unfilled so they could check it later. To fill the void he had to go find some fat to harvest, which is why the surgery took as long as it did. Finding chub on that girl is like finding a Jean Claude Van Damme flick where he doesn't do the splits. They made an incision deep in the territory my mom taught me was the"bad touch" area.

They cut in front and behind her ear, and inserted a lovely blood/puss drain and stitched that to her neck. Between the three incisions and a load of Demoral, she was really out of it when she was brought into the recovery area.

By the time we got to the car, it was late afternoon. Somehow the 2 hour operation had taken all day. On the drive home we had a delightful role swap as Amy asked me to roll down all the windows. I was freezing my toots off while my drugged up wife seemed oblivious to the 30 degree air. This must be what its like to date Linday Lohan. I carried her from the car to the bed, but she felt more than her real weight because she was as limp as a noodle.

She has slept all but a few hours since getting home. We've had tons of friends bring over food and flowers and chocolate. It has been touching to see how many people have given of themselves. The outpouring has encouraged me to suggest that Amy get a few more procedures a la Heidi Montag just so we can keep this lovely feeling.