Mrs. Foot's surgery was a smashing success. The surgeon removed the tumor (which he described as "very small") and one or two nodes through two inch and a half long incisions. The nodes showed no signs of cancer. We'll know for sure when we get the full pathology report tomorrow. If it reads as anticipated, we can then start taunting the cancer without fear of karmic repercussions.
The operation went so well, that I fear that I may have suffered even more than Mrs. Foot; while she was unconscious, I spent hours alone in the waiting room drowning in anxiety, the TV there tuned interminably to CNN, and feasting on a hospital cafeteria "cheeseburger." At least Mrs. Foot gets to take Percocet.
On an even lighter note, I saw a funny thing when I went to the parking lot to retrieve the Footmobile when the time to go home finally arrived. Parked across the aisle from my car was a shiny blue Toyota, sporting this bumper sticker. No, not some pale knockoff but the original, real deal. What would Reagan do, indeed?
He'd probably laugh, just like I did.