Earlier this week, I alluded to something I was really worried about. It wasn't my info to give, but my Dad has now shared it on his site, so I figure it's fair game.
My Dad's doctor found a small tumor that he had to have surgery for in Ukraine on my birthday. So, it was like "Happy Birthday, your Dad might die." I mean, for normal people a tumor is a big deal. For people who have already lost someone they loved more than chocolate and Wal-Mart and McDonald's and Tim Horton's all rolled into one? The word "tumor" sends a terror through you that is completely disproportionate. I spent the night before the surgery on edge and didn't' sleep much. Then Dad called the next day to say it was all fine. It was a pretty good birthday present.
That morning, I emailed The Guy to tell him the good news. This was his reply.
You were very worried.
And then I scrolled down to read...
About your dad's junk.
Just kidding. Good to hear!
Just one more reason why I love him.
*The title refers to the first time this month I blogged about my Dad's family jewels. I'm going to have to get new material.