It has been a month since my husband's surgery - the doc says all the cancer was contained in one area, and no further treatment is necessary. I guess that good old Guardian Angel includes my loved ones, too. Thanks, dude!
I could (and probably should) write a book now on the immediate aftercare of a man who has undergone prostate removal. Just to give everyone a Head's Up if you are facing this situation any time soon - take your pajamas to the hospital when you check in for his surgery, and be prepared to set up camp in his room. During the surgery, don't sit in the hospital - give all the attendants your cell phone number, then go find some peace and comfort for three to four hours while he is in their hands. You will need your reserves so that you can be alert every second of the first night to support and comfort your man. The nurses will check on him periodically, but you need to be there every second for the next 48 hours. Just sayin'.
We are in Atlanta now, and loving it. There is a beautiful Spring going on over here that just doesn't happen at the beach...on the island, there's no verdant grass, no tender blossoms, and no sunny corners to curl up in out of the still-chilly breeze. The island has its own charms in the Spring, but I guess I'm just a woodsy kind of girl, and love the smell of all the trees and vines waking up, stretching, and shaking off the Winter.
Yesterday, my husband called me to look out at an abandoned flower bed that is overgrown with ivy now (so much to do!) to show me a single tulip that had arisen and bloomed 12 years after being planted, just at this particular time. He remarked that if you were Japanese, you would probably place deep spiritual significance to that bloom; you would probably translate that as a sign that life would go on.
I'm thinking he's about right.