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One afternooon, while we were staying at our "castle" in San Diego last week, Catherine called me into the bathroom.

"Look at this", she said, pointing at the groin of my soaking wet 7-year old, Gigi, who had just emerged from the shower.

"Now cough." Gigi coughed, and I could see a bulge in the groin area.  It was about the size of a half-dollar.  It popped out every time she coughed.  "It's a hernia." I said, not really sure what else it could be.

"How in the heck could she get a hernia?" Catherine asked.

Gigi was following the conversation intently, and started to cry.

"I don't want to have cancer!" She wailed, while Catherine and I both hugged her and assured her (with as much certainty as we could muster) that it wasn't cancer.  It was just a little problem, nothing to get worked up about.  But after all that we've been through with strange lumps this year, we really didn't need another one. 

As soon as we got home, we made an appointment to get the lump checked.
 
Then, on Wednesday, Gigi was playing in the driveway at my Mom's house, when she fell and broke her fall with her left arm.  We rushed her to the doctor, and learned that she did, in fact, suffer a hairline fracture in a bone near her wrist. 

So, as it turned out, Gigi ended up with a double appointment at Children's Hospital today: First, to get her lump examined and diagnosed, and second, to get a cast on her newly broken arm. 

As the doctors worked to set the bone, Gigi shrieked in pain.  It was a harrowing experience for her, but as they applied the cast on her arm, she began to realize that this could be a great way to get some extra attention.  She suddenly got very excited at the idea of having a new, stylish, semi-permanent addition to her wardrobe.

 

She could have gotten a cast in just about any color you can think of.  But with no coaxing whatsoever from her old man, decided to go with a Seahawks/ Sounders color scheme.  I totally respect that. 

Gigi will be attending a new elementary school at the end of the month.  I told her that bringing a bunch of markers, and having her classmates sign her cast will be a fantastic way to make new friends.  She loves that idea. 

She wasn't so crazy about the outcome of the other exam.  The lump, it turns out, is a hernia, and she'll have to have it surgically removed.  It means outpatient surgery, and I assured her (with as much certainty as I could muster) that it won't be any big deal.  She'll go to sleep, and when she wakes up, it'll be all done. 

It's a lot of medical stuff for a 7-year old to handle all at one time.  First trip to the hospital.  First broken bone.  First surgery.  Not to mention the fact that the family has been dealing with my cancer treatment all summer.   It's an awful lot to handle, but the cancer thing actually makes broken bones and hernia surgeries seem quaint by comparison.  We already have so much on our plate, what the heck, heap on a little more. 

That's the thing about cancer.  It makes you not sweat the small stuff so much.  And like the well-worn phrase goes: it's all small stuff.