We got to the hospital just before noon yesterday. Brian's mom and dad got there a few minutes after, so we waited with his uncle for them to walk over. We said our hellos and everyone was doing that 'do we go inside now' body language thing. His dad asks "what time is it?" "11:55" and he just stands there with the most adorable, stubborn grin ever. He doesn't have to be there until noon, and he's in no rush. I couldn't blame him.
He went in to get prepped and even though he was scheduled to have surgery at 1, he didn't go in until 3:15. It was almost 6:30 before we heard any news. And I'm not going to sugar coat it, it's scary.
The tumor was in the middle of the lower lobe of his left lung. The took the entire lobe. They found 3 lymph nodes that looked suspicious, so they took those out for biopsy. We won't know for a couple of days just what kind of recovery path we're looking at.
We didn't get to see him until nearly 8. This is a man that has been relatively healthy all his life and never spent a night in the hospital. He looked so small and frail. Brian and I left the hospital feeling really raw and prepared for a rough time over the next couple of days.
It's really difficult to push out the negative thoughts. We're struggling to do that right now.
He normally calls me Debra Rose. There aren't a lot of people who do, and his southern drawl has had a special place in my heart. I need to hear him call me that again soon. *wipes eyes*