At least metaphorically.
Had my follow up appointment at Roswell today. As many of you probably already know ovarian cancer has a dismal mortality rate. Primarily because it is usually not discovered until it is well advanced, generally stage 3 or 4. Considering the size of the tumor I was not really expecting particularly good news. I was delightfully surprised to be informed that I was stage 1A, everything was still encapsulated, they want to give me four inpatient chemo treatments just to be sure, and it should be all taken care of. They are 99.9 percent sure I am going to be fine. Betcha that is what was weird about it. They wanted to double check everything because they did not expect such an early stage with such a large growth.
Less good, I have a bit of infection at the bottom of the incision. So they popped it open like a ziplock, rinsed me out, and packed the wound. I was scatting opera during this little interlude so as to avoid swearing at them. Honestly, the aftermath of all this is more comfortable than the staples were. I am still a bit owie near the infection, but not near so much elsewhere. We'll have a visiting nurse in tomorrow to change the dressing and start teaching DH how to change it.
I am going to try to coax DH into an ice cream run to celebrate the good news! :)
NightMist