Surgery 3

….And….  we’re back.  I’m keenly aware that the Team James updates have been few and far between and for that I am sincerely sorry.  During the six weeks of radiation I was just keeping my head above water.  And I was always cooking.  And putting Jake to bed one hundred times a night.  Until finally I gave up and just started going to bed in an attempt to get Jacob to go to sleep.  Instead I’d mostly just see the slightly eerie bobbing of a headlamp downstairs as he wandered around in the dark, looking for Legos and reading his Minecraft books and sorting Pokémon cards.

Since James got back we haven’t been able to watch TV or blog or sit in the living room unless we want our little shadow to stay up until 10PM.  Which we certainly don’t.

This past Thursday, James and I drove up to Santa Cruz in preparation for his surgery on Friday morning.  We had to be in Palo Alto by 6:30AM Friday morning and Granddad was driving.  We all went to bed early, even though Jakey was still in San Luis with Nate and Nonna and Papa.  It stormed all night long, because when James is in Santa Cruz… it pours.

We left the house early Friday morning piled into the truck.  It was dark, it was raining.  We made it to Stanford after an eventful ride.  James wore his protective double threat— his Superman shirt and socks.  He was in a great mood, laughing and smiling.  The laminated poster of the unexplained Mepilex never fails to lighten the mood in a fit of suppressed giggles.

Our surgeon wasn’t quite sure what he was going to do, but he wanted a closer look at the “granularity” and to make sure he knew exactly what the small bump was at the base of James’ vocal cords.  We appreciate that he’s taking a conservative yet measured approach to treatment.  In this case, there just isn’t a “usually” to fall back on.

Fortunately the surgery was relatively short.  James said there weren’t any observers— a good sign given all the medical looky-loos are generally hanging around to rubberneck unusual and rare surgeries.  Much better to be uninteresting and ho-hum this time around.

Kristen joined Granddad and Grandma Suzy and me in our corner of the waiting room.  We looked at old pictures and caught-up on life and discussed the merits of present-day Detroit.  Post-surgery, our doctor found us in the waiting room and took us to the special “cushier” conference room so he could share his before and after pictures.  He loves to show us before and after pictures.  I could tell by his smile that everything went well.

And it did.  He told us that the little bump was much smaller than it was two weeks ago— just a teeny tiny little blister.  He said there was almost nothing for the pathologist to test and nothing looked suspicious or malignant.  We packed-up Superman and took his happy, healthy vocal cords straight to Smitten for a big bowl of extra creamy lemon gingersnap ice cream and then a long nap.

The weekend before James’ final radiation treatments, the sky was filled with a clear, vivid rainbow… in the same exact spot it had appeared just over six weeks before.

Coincidence that we’ve witnessed more rainbows in the last four months than we’ve seen in the last four decades?  I think not.

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