Who knew there was such a thing as a "little" cancer

So. Exactly a week from today my husband will be going into surgery to, hopefully, remove the last traces of cancer from his non-smoking, non-drinking, 34 year-old self. It's a small surgery thankfully, only a slice about the size of a finger taken from his tongue. Amazingly enough, this is a huge improvement over the original estimate of half to a third of the entire tongue.

I have written many posts in my head since the beginning of November when the GP suggested he see a specialist for a sore spot that hadn't healed in several months. Posts about the difference between theory and reality when it comes to not freaking out until the tests are actually run. Posts about trying to tell children about their daddy having cancer,even a little, in words they understand but won't freak them out when all the adults are feeling shocked. Posts about how very glad I am that the man I love didn't wait the year or more that is usual before people seek help for such minor-seeming problems. I just never seemed to find the words to fill an entire post. Or perhaps more accurately, there were too many words and no order to them.

My husband has probably handled things better than I have. He has not only gone about his work as usual, but has also made sure that all the insurance stuff is taken care of. He has spent hours on the phone to make sure everything is in order, and in network. I am in awe of the way he has cared for us while dealing with his own fear and pain.

The prognosis is good and we are very hopeful that recovery will be quick. We also hope to never forget the closeness the threat of loss has brought us. A closeness we may well never have realized without that threat.