When my daughter was born on May 18, 1981, she weighed 9 pounds 13 ounces. On Friday, she had a 10-pound cyst removed. It was about the size of a volleyball and made for an amazing and scary photograph.
Fortunately, everything went smoothly. She's up in the hospital now, sleeping in fits, drugged up on Percocet and finally back on solid food. She'll be laid up for about a month, minus an ovary and an appendix but otherwise OK, provided all the tests check out. I'm not sure why they took the appendix; I suspect it was sort of like at the gargage when the mechanic says, "Well, since we've got to pull the engine anyway, might as well replace the timing belt."
When she was tiny, I can remember feeling a twinge of outrage at seeing a mosquito bite mar her perfect skin. How dare the world touch my baby? Times change expectations. On Friday, I was perfectly willing to stand by helplessly as a surgeon, to use Rachel's phrase, gutted her like a fish.
We don't need her to be perfect anymore. We're just glad to have her.
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3 comments:
Wow. Glad everything turned out OK -- and as the father of two girls, I know exactly what you mean. Hope she recovers quickly!
I truly hope she recovers 100%. Good Luck to you & yours.
Hope that Rachel's doing well.
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