No, I am not trying to insult you. That was the subject line of an email sent by my aunt a few days ago, letting me know how my mom was doing after having surgery. My aunt is of those people who seem to have just discovered the interenet - she's a forwarder, she capitalizes inappropriately - but luckily for her, I find it endearing (but she's the only one - don't anyone else get any ideas).
A few weeks ago, the doctor discovered something growing where it ought not to grow, and (obviously) decided it had to come out. Unfortunately, it was so large that they thought it couldn't be done the easy way, and it was going to be major surgery with a six-week recovery time. Even worse, they wouldn't know till they took it out whether it was the bad kind of growth, or the not-bad kind. Most people with this sort of growth (sorry to be sort of vague - I'm trying to give my mom at least a little bit of privacy here) fall into one of two groups. For the people in the first group, it's almost always benign. For the people in the second, it's more often cancer. My mom was one of the few people who actually fit into both groups, so we didn't really know what to expect.
Anyway, so thankfully the news on my mom was good. As it turned out, when they went to do the surgery, the doctor decided he could do it laprscopically after all (so, a much easier recovery), and it was all benign. She was kind of funny about it afterwards - of course it was all good news, but she'd spent all this time mentally preparing to be an invalid, and now she actually had to get up and get on with her life. Heh.
One thing that sucks about being out here on the west coast is that I couldn't come home to help her out, so I don't feel so bad now that she doesn't really need it. She did have my aunt (her sister) come over right after she got home, but apparently my aunt was a little disappointed that my she didn't need more help - my aunt's one of those people who really likes to take care of people. And if you're wondering, yes, my dad was around the whole time, but the man can barely boil a pot of water. My mom said he offered to cook her scrambled eggs, and she wasn't sure she she should trust him. Gotta admire him for offering to try, though.
And hey, remember Little Bob? (Good news on him, too, by the way - so far the cancer has not returned.) When told that my mom had to have her tumor removed (granted, it wasn't actually a tumor in the strictest sense of the word, but he's four years old), he said, totally on his own, that he would call her up and tell her not to be scared. He did end up getting distracted and forgot to actually do it (again, he's four), but still, you know, awwwww. Cutest kid ever.