Had the surgery yesterday and I'm home again already. Sore, slow - lots of naps, no lifting, but HOME.
After those few weeks of trying, inside, to prepare for the worst, I got the best: apparently there's no - "very minimal" - invasion of the cancer into the uterine muscle wall. The surgeon didn't even take the lymph nodes she'd planned on taking. There is a chance I'll have to go back and get those out, if the final path report indicates the need. I'll hear from the surgeon probably by Monday about that. But she's very, very good, very smart and I suspect if she had the faintest doubt, she would have taken them yesterday. And, since they think this cancer is estrogen-fed, not even any post-surgical hormone therapy.
So - on May 24th I got the first warning from my body that something was wrong. On June 18th, I get the cancer diagnosis. On July 13th, I have the surgery. As far as we know today, July 14th, I'm cancer-free. That's 50 days. No wonder my head is spinning. It's going to take some time to process this. Fortunately I seem to have quite a bit of time coming up.
How did I get so fortunate, in this and in my friends and family?