the nodes

All of our preparation has been a little lacking, a forward projection without a precise definition because it all hinged on the contents of my lymph nodes. I have undertaken a dualistic mental preparation for better or worse news - because even mastectomy can come with better and worse news.
Tuesday I had four lymph nodes removed in a fairly simple outpatient procedure. The nurse who checked me in was kind in a way that suggested she wanted us to have questions or need something because it would have given her something useful and supportive to do. She cocked her head and made sympathetic pursed lips at us. I felt oddly giddy in my nervousness. She gave me Tylenol and a small cup of water with instructions not to drink it all, "just a sip," she said, then averted her eyes to talk to Jason while I swallowed every drop. Jason called me a sneak and once the nurse walked away, I played lookout so he could take a picture of me in my gown, hairnet, and baby blue hospital socks. They wheeled me into a large room, clean but full of information on a huge board, monitors of all sorts, and surgical implements galore. I slid myself from my bed to a surgical cot. Kind eyes introduced themselves from behind blue face masks, clinking tiny scissors and laying out scalpels.
"Ok. Now I want to be relaxed, please. Really fast, please." I gently but urgently implored the anesthesiologist.
I woke up itchy, foggy, thirsty, talkative, and with four fewer lymph nodes than I had earlier that day.
I have had conflicting senses about the nodes. On some level, I could not imagine having a mastectomy, radiation, then beginning the process of reconstruction at least six months down the line; it just didn't feel like a tangible reality despite its statistical probability. Still, I have attempted to prepare myself mentally for either outcome knowing that whichever procedure I would have would take place Monday.
The surgeon called around ten this morning to tell me that he had my pathology results back, that those four lymph nodes have defied the odds, which were stacked quite high against me. Roughly 70% of patients with micropapillary cancers have diseased lymph nodes, but mine - my nodes are squeaky clean and cancer-free. I shook with a huge full-body sigh of intense relief. I had no idea until that very moment how very scared I was of hearing other news.