The stitches are out.

So apparently this was quite the surgery.  "Major" might have been the word used.  The assistant who took me in asked how I made it through.  She commented that the first few days afterwards must have been very painful and rough considering the severity of the work.  I shrugged and said it was ok.  The doctor commented to the same effect.  I didn't dare tell him that I went to work the next Monday.  The way they were talking to me, I guess this was indeed major.  The doctor took the stitches out of the graft.  That stung a bit, like needles, but no blood.  He exclaimed with glee when he saw how the graft took.  He called another assistant in to show her the job.  Apparently my recession was "severe".  They gave me the mirror so I could see the job.  Well, it was a nice ending to a day that started with me nearly fainting and losing my stitches.  My sister keeps referring to the effect of the surgery as "raw meat" but this isn't raw meat.  For a gal that scars profusely, I healed amazingly well.  I left with a smile on my face.  Something finally went right.  And I celebrated appropriately:  a Nutella filled donut from an Italian bakery.

And then I spent the rest of the evening on my knees pulling weeds in the backyard.  I weeded until I couldn't see the weeds anymore - precisely 8.00 pm.  My first late night gardening session.  And with this Spring weather, I am more in the mood to go out on the weekends.  I missed my regular haunt for four weeks.  I went Saturday.  The doorman/bouncer greeted me with a hug and said he missed me.  Cool.  This is a man who a lot of patrons do not like.  They think he is mean.  I happen to love his snarky sense of humor.  He said I am one of his favorite patrons.  I might have giggled.  It was amazing to walk in and have people say they missed me.  People were happy to see me.  They might not be friends in the proper sense of the word, but they are people who are nice to me, worry when I am not around, and are delighted to see me each weekend.

And the feeling I get when I am around these people is what I hope my students feel when they come into my room.  No matter how crappy they are feeling or how others are treating them, when they step into my room, I want them to feel valued, as if their presence matters.