set it down

ok, so maybe I overreacted a little. but when it comes to your mom, all bets are off. i'm allowed to freak the fuck out for a second.

my mom's going to be fine. why she didn't tell me the full story of the operation, i don't know. she survived breast cancer and her doctor was worried about the possibility of ovarian cancer developing, so when she found out she had major gall stones her doctor suggested they go ahead and take the ovaries out "while [they're] in there."

why didn't she tell me that? kind of major, right?

maybe not. i don't even know.

anyway, there was internal leakage after the surgery. she told my dad to call 911 after experiencing the worst pain of her life. i don't think my mom has ever been in an ambulance, and that's pretty good for being nearly 62.

(has anyone else been in an ambulance? do i assume because i have, everyone has? discuss.)

so yeah, it was really sad to see her in the hospital bed. when i arrived she still hadn't woken from the anesthesia yet. gradually she came to, looking extremely tired, sallow, and like smiling was a near impossibility. my dad told her "everyone's here" and she scanned the room silently until her eyes fell upon my niece, her sugar plum fairy, and she whispered "hi Bridgette."

nearly broke me in two, how much my mom loves that little girl. i imagine she used to look at me the same way, her miracle, the baby girl her body couldn't produce but who was there for her to love all the same. and now that i've learned Bridgette asks about me all the time, i'm totally smitten as well.

inhale! exhale! everything's going to be fine.