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Thank you again for your support. It makes a difference.
Mary Ann was awake, alert, and in good spirits.
She hadn't eaten all day, so I got her one of her favorite Homer Simpson-esque sandwiches -- liverwurst, Muenster cheese and coleslaw. It was good to see her eat, even though it wasn't exactly from the low-calorie menu.
She hadn't called anyone but me before I left for the hospital. When I got there, she told me that she called Mom, and complained that now everyone knows. I told her we've had this conversation thousands of times, that probably in less than five minutes after she spoke to other mother, Somalian pirates knew she was in the hospital and that the Unkrainian rebels called a cease fire as a result. We share a mutual "Mom" thing.
She also told me that my younger sister was inconsolable when she spoke to her, and that she's continuing to take care people from her hospital bed. My Mom and my sister are going to see her tomorrow.
What we know so far is that the tumor is the size of a small egg, and that it has not yet been determined whether or not it's cancerous. Knowing my sister, she wouldn't tell me if it were. At least not right away. Her treating physician was unavailable for comment.
She appeared to be more relaxed than I've ever seen her, and I know my sister very well. She was near hysterical when I was in the hospital for my hip surgeries (I looked liked death and was all hopped up on painkillers when I came from the recovery room), and then again when I had an emergency appendectomy about a year-and-a-half ago, and she hates hospitals. Given her history and the news she received today, I'm curious about this (Shock? Resignation?), but I'm not now trying to figure this out right now. I'm just happy to see her safe and sound for the moment.