First things first, though: thanks so much, all of you who sent your good wishes and happiness along in response to my rather less than coherent message of the 13th. Many of you also sent huzzah's BB's way, over at dr_whuh . Believe me, he appreciates them.
Yes, the love of my life is now back home, with four little incisions in his side. Against the expectations of his doctors (and probably himself), the tumor was indeed benign.
And it seems to have done some inadvertent good, by convincing his surgeon and his pulmonologist that BB needs oxygen.
We came home with a big ol' industrial tank of oxygen in the car, and found three equally large tanks at home, along with a little machine that gives off a rather unnerving amount of heat as it operates. (Heat, but no working instructions. We're going to have check with the delivery company, and online to figure out exactly what the connection may be between the industrial tanks and the little R2D2-looking heat generating machine.)
Where was I?
Right. Oxygen - that's the ticket.
And that is the ticket. We've been trying to get our HMO to pay for supplemental oxygen for months, if not a year or more. The response has always been that he needed to go to pulmonary rehab and be consistently below a given percentage of oxygen-absorption before they'd even consider it. Apparently having a lung resection generated the necessary Big Magic.
Lung resection. Huh. Why don't they just call it a We took out a honking big chunk o'lung-ectomy? Long, yes, but less euphemistic, neh?
Anyhow, I have bread to bake, a mortgage payment to make, a desk to un-snakepit, some writing to do, and mushroom soup and meat loaf to make. Oh, and oxygen tanks to wrestle.
All of which makes me, more or less, happy. And again? Thank you all.