Well, as dutiful and caring parents we went home at about 9.30pm to let the girl sleep. She was fine, and we’d only cramp her style. As I mentioned before, Emma sits in that middle position: mature enough to be independent and self-confident enough to not need us, and yet still, little, vulnerable and well, still ours. So, once we’d seen her right, we left her too it.
I phoned this morning to see how she is, and the nurse who answered the phone said “would you like me to hand the phone to Mum?” “That’s clever” I said “as she’s stood next to me!” It must be the standard response.
That mild amusement aside, Emma is fine. The other children and parents on the ward (loud new diabetic kid and small quiet little girl with a mum who spends all the time on the phone) were ‘doing her head in’ with the noise, and I know she’ll be looking forward to getting home later today.
Yes, it was a massive cyst, but just that it would appear: no evidence of malignancy, Praise God. The cyst had twisted the ovary and therefore both the ovary and the cyst had died, probably within the first 24 hours of her abdominal pain; so she had it all removed on that side. That’s why you have two: you can fly perfectly well on one engine, and there are no real long term implications for fertility.
The surgeon told us that she can go back to school later next week, so now I have to arrange for a week’s worth of school work so she doesn’t start (continue?) slacking. She has been brilliant throughout all this, and I am very proud of her.