My daughter was ten, we think, when a tumor started growing in her bone. It was benign. Still it grew and grew. After three years of appointments to our local children’s hospital and hawk-like watching, doctors concluded that a very large mass should be removed from her leg. Surgery was long but went well, and the surgeon was truly a saint, as was the nurse who had cared for us throughout. Her father and I literally paced back and forth in the hospital room (so cliché) where we’d get to see her as soon as they’d allow us to after the procedure. She held up well, and a few hours later when the heavy narcotics given during surgery had worn off, the attending doctor stopped by during rounds. Confounded that she’d not taken any pain meds ...

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