Laura rejected her thyroid

And it wasn't that big a deal.

Well, so far.

We woke up ridiculously early this morning. For some of us, it was more ridiculous than others.

Laura wasn't planning on going for a walk (she's getting really bored with those), but she decided it would help her feel better later.

I wasn't planning on cleaning litter boxes. But I decided that more sleep would help me feel better later. So I skipped them.

D got a notification that they had to be at work early in the morning. So they didn't clean the litter boxes, either. I'm sure they would have otherwise.

But that really meant that we had to sit around waiting for Nana and Pappy to show up with nothing else to do.

Laura wanted to drive, so we'd to the surgical center on time. We both pretended that it was because she already knew where she was going.

We wound up sitting around in a little nook to ourselves for a few hours while we waited.

All around us, people were freaking out. One guy with an impressive voice read off headlines. If he practiced, he could probably get a job on the radio. Or maybe as a voice actor.

Later, their preacher joined them to pray about whatever was going to happen. Or somebody from their church. It got real religious for a while.

I had flashbacks to my Dad's funeral. With that preacher proclaiming that you can't find any comfort or solace without Jesus. The same preacher who relegated me and Khrys to the middle rows with the nieces and nephews, since we didn't count.

I also had flashbacks to all the time I spent in the hospital with my dad. There wasn't any question that he was dying. We all knew it. I think everyone except Denise admitted it.

It's funny the way this sort of timing works and sneaks up on you. I got really familiar with hospitals as a kid, when Mom spent so much time in them. They were probably a lot scarier then than they are now, but they weren't anywhere near as terrifying as the were when she was a kid. And, before that, they were basically just places where people went to die.

So it's weird.

I wasn't worried about Laura at all.

If I hadn't spent so much time before this in hospitals, I probably would have been completely freaked out and panicked.

But we both trusted her surgeon to be a professional who knows how to manage a difficult surgery because she's done it thousands of times.

My jerk brain now wishes that I'd given her crap and asked whether I could have helped show her where to cut, because that's what men do. Why does my brain do this?!

Man-stupidity aside, they told me that I could expect to spend the next several hours alone. So I went out to eat.

I suppose I should have stayed in the waiting room, freaking out about what was going to happen and how it was all going to turn out.

But I've been doing this since I was a little kid. Surgeries themselves don't really scare me. I know they can and do go wrong. But I trust medical professionals to mostly get it right.

Shortly before she went in, Laura noted that she thinks she was pretty safe from a nick in the bladder. Apparently that's what killed Pappy's mother. He was Mal's age at the time. We spent a little time being horrified about the prospect of me raising Mal the rest of the way without her (at least I assume that's what she contemplated).

So I went out for food. I'd done my best to fast with Laura before the surgery (though she was right: I had some water when I first woke up, when she couldn't).

I was halfway through my meal when I got a text message that she was almost out of surgery. I asked for a To Go box and rushed outside.

The surgeon called. I'm pretty sure she told me all the pertinent details. All I heard was that Laura had done fine and everything was good.

And that I didn't need to rush my meal. So I went back to finish my food (and realized that I'd splattered tikka masala all over the book I was reading when I got called).

 I hurried back to the hospital and fought with people for a place to park. I got another call in the middle of that, while I was halfway into a parking spot. The other person who'd been shooting for that spot got really irritated with me, but I really didn't care.

After all, this story isn't supposed to be about me.

I'd sent text messages to both Laura's dad and my mom to keep them updated about her progress. I called my mom once I got back to the hospital.

At that point, she'd been in Recovery for a while. They were trying to find a room for her. I chatted with Mom for a bit. She's really excited about the baby quail that are everywhere. She's been waiting to see them for at least 30 years.

Considering all the time Mom has spent in surgery, and all the time I know she has spent waiting on other people in surgery, I really appreciate her story about the quail.

It was a really nice distraction from worries that didn't amount to anything.

At least not yet. This is one of those "Your life has changed" sorts of days.

I'm really glad that the amount of change is so minor. Doctors know how to manage this one. It isn't a big deal.

I'm just glad that it wasn't anything drastic.