She reminded me that hernias were a family tradition. My younger brother David had one when we were little and shared a bedroom. Mom and Dad had called the kids together. I prayed, but not too hard, since I'd always wanted a bedroom of my own. David not only survived, he came home from the hospital with the neatest toys.
Some scars are a long time healing.
On the day of Spencer's surgery, my dad met us at the hospital. Fifteen years before, he'd skipped my high school graduation. Sitting in a boiling gym while a local pundit admonished the students to rise above their mediocrity wasn't Dad's idea of a good time. So he stayed home. So I called him and pointed out that my therapist feels very positive about my chances for a complete recovery barring any further rejection and, sure enough, Dad was at the hospital bright and early.