Mr Pie has prostate cancer.
The diagnosis, four weeks ago, hit us in a funny way. At first we were bemused, wondering aloud that we were not really reacting very much, but at 3 am we were both suddenly wide awake. The hardest part was notifiying all of the family and friends, telling them not to panic, assuring them that he would be fine. Funny thing, we need assurance, but we’re the ones giving it.
In two weeks he will have laparascopic surgery for the cancer. He will spend a couple of nights at a hospital in Irvine, and be discharged with a catheter in place. He’ll have to wear that for a couple of weeks, which will mean that he isn’t leaving the property until it’s removed. He has been told to take 4 to 6 weeks off work, which is all the sick leave he has saved up. I think he’s only going to take two and then go back for half days for a couple of weeks. The drive is about 90 minutes each way, only 27 miles but it’s the 91 from Anaheim to Torrance, a miserable drive. I’ll drive him to a coworker’s house in the morning, he’ll carpool to work, and I’ll pick him up around noon.
So, the kitchen is about to be gutted two weeks after Mr Pie comes home from the hospital. This should be interesting.