Fifty-seven Percent

This morning I met with the specialist who'll be doing the major surgery I mentioned last week.

It was both encouraging and discouraging.

I trust the surgeon to do a good job.  He was confident without being arrogant about it. and said he's done lots of these procedures.  And since today was our first meeting, I'm glad Hubby and I walked out assured that the doctor knows what he's doing, and that I'm in good hands.

I'm having a complete hysterectomy.

If that wasn't discouraging enough, there's a rather substantial risk that the precancerous cells found in the testing on the 10th have little cancerous buddies...a 43% chance.

The oncologist used the impressive medical terminology that the slides from my test were "a mess."

This is one of those cases in which impressing your doctor is usually a bad sign.

The treatment, if active cancer is present, is pretty much the same, so there will be a judgment call made at surgery as to whether or not I get to keep my lymph nodes.  And if I don't...well...hopefully the nodes will be clear and the cancer will not have spread.

I'm scared.

If you're of the praying sort, here's what we're most concerned with:

• that I'll be in that 57% that just has angry mutant cells.
• that we'll be able to tell the Fries calmly and reassure them, with minimal trauma.  (They're a bit sensitive to me being hospitalized.)
• that, even if I fall into that 43%, everything is contained and hasn't spread.
• that Hubby and I will be able to sleep this week.
• that the surgeon's scalpel will be true.
• that I will stay healthy this week so that the surgery can proceed on Friday...because Large and Medium picked today to have another stomach bug bite them.  And that Small won't get what they have!

We also accept well-wishes, crossed fingers, good luck, healing thoughts, kitten pictures, and virtual hugs.

I should only be in the hospital overnight.  I'll post an update when I'm able.