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My wife maintained her spirit and humor all through the pre-op preparation process.  She 
joked and laughed with the nurses, assistants and doctors as they poked her, pushed her, squeezed her, took blood, took measurements, poked her some more and basically, just abused the hell out of her in preparation for what we knew was a serious operation.

Many of the healthcare professionals did not know what to make of her smiling face, 
sarcastic tone and bubbling humor as they were all well aware of the seriousness and risks involved with the upcoming surgical procedure.  But her good humor was unwavering.

In the six months since her dissection and the two months since the decision to perform this operation, my wife did her homework.  She knew exactly how serious her condition was and the risks involved with this necessary operation.  And yet, she kept her spirits high and her optimism never dipped.

When the anesthesiologist came out just minutes before they rolled her into the operating room and explained, for what seemed like the one thousandth time in the last two weeks, the risks and seriousness of her procedure, for the first time, I noticed signs of fear on her face and saw tears well up in her eyes. 

Holding my hand as we approached the operating room where I was to be left behind, she looked up at me and said, “Take care of yourself and our Spencer”.  The doors swung close and the six hour operation commenced.

It’s now seven days later and Cindy is well on her way to a full recovery.  The doctors could not be more pleased with how the surgery went and with the rapidity of her recovery.  There is no reason to believe that, within 8 – 10 weeks, she cannot be back to her normal, active self.

She is back to joking, being sarcastic and a regular pain in everyone’s ass – she is slowly 
becoming Cindy again.

I will never forget, however, in the one second of fear and worry, how her concerns were 
about the well-being of me and our son – and, not about herself.

I love you Cindy Flach.

And, I hope that if you ever decide to read any of my poems – given you do not understand my obsession with writing these silly things – I hope like hell, you choose to read this one.

Welcome home, love.
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