I think they have the wrong idea about me

As most of you know Robert had some pretty serious back pain back in 2013.  Turns out that a little wad of gum - which is code for benign tumor - was back there.  You know how your mom says don't swallow your gum?  Well, this is what happens if you don't listen.  

Robert's pain went away, and the tumor didn't cause any more trouble so it was left alone but closely monitored.  The last scan at the beginning of this month showed that it was time to take the tumor out, and the sooner the better so that Robert wouldn't have any complications from its growth. Yesterday Robert had surgery to remove the tumor, or 'peel the tumor off the tip of his spine' as his doctor so elegantly put it.  

It was a success!  Robert had a dural leak, which is just code for spinal fluid leakage - which is why there's a code for it - and that has slowed things down a bit.  He was perfectly flat for 24 hours but has risen from the bed into a sitting position in just the last hour, which is lovely because I can see his face better and he doesn't have this crazed woman staring at him hawkishly through a curtain of unwashed hair.    

He is talking more today and seems a little more interested in his surroundings.  He even ate a little, and hopefully by the end of today will have the catheter removed and with assistance, be able to move around a bit.  It took longer to get him sitting up than anticipated so we'll just have to see how the day plays out.  The doctor told us he should be able to go home Thursday or Friday.  We should also have pathology results in the next couple days to find out whether the tumor was all that gum Robert swallowed as a kid or if it's the tidy little bundle of hair, teeth and kneecaps that belong to his secret twin.  

While he was in pre-op he asked me to lean closer.  

I think they have the wrong idea about me, he whispered while nodding at the nurse.  

Why, I asked.

First they stick me in a dress, he said while pointing to his gown.  Then they put me in pantyhose.  He showed me his compression stockings (once again more valuable code language), and now jewelry, he spat as he shook the myriad of plastic wrist bands.  

We giggled quite a bit about this before they took him to surgery.  Today, after nearly a day of mostly grunts and moans from him he made a small noise. A friend of ours was visiting and we paused our gabbing to ask Robert what he needed.  I think they have the wrong idea about me he croaked as he drifted back off to sleep.  

Last night, at some ungodly hour, admidst the chaos of nurses coming in and out, groaning furniture being shoved around on the floor above us and a unreasonably loud intercom, there was this:

A very jolly ladybug spent many joyous minutes moseying around Robert's phone.  After awhile the ladybug flew away, ready for its next delivery of luck.  Or it could have been Robert's reincarnated twin flying in for one last goodbye.