I woke up at 3:45. Shane snored until 5:50. We left at 6:45 and checked in by quarter to eight.

Shane arriving at the Palace (not to be confused with the Palace in Provo where we used to attend Punk Night in the good old days).

Shane has been quite courageous during the entire ordeal, at least until the asked him to put his clothes in a U of U garment bag.

Doesn’t this come in BYU Blue?

As Shane changed into his open-backed gown I promised him, “I got your back.” I came away with his marbles, too.

In a diligent effort not to lose them, Shane carries these marbles in his pocket daily (even on weekends). I have now been charged with the care and keeping of the husband’s marbles until he has pockets again.

True to our entire experience with Huntsman, everyone we’ve met here has been especially personable, engaging, compassionate and attentive.

Shane considers a career change from third-grade teacher to school-lunch worker (mostly I thought this was a good excuse to take a picture of the anesthesiologist of whom Shane’s father said, “He looks like that guy in that movie.” ?).

What’s missing here is the vision of the beautiful blonde angel Michelle L. and her darling and very pink Miss Mary who were there to greet me as I left Shane to the devices of the anesthesiologists and walked out into the waiting room. (Did I mention she came bearing gifts of Godiva chocolate, a bookmark and some B&BW lotion? I told you she was an angel. And me, I’m just spoiled, but hopefully not rotten.)

This was my view from the seat where I waited. And where also I met a lovely man with a liver transplant who was waiting for his wife who has sarcoidosis and helped him get online, because neither one of us could stand to wait disconnected. And where I also prayed mightily (and broke my fast by feasting upon the goodness of Godiva). Which prayers were answered when the doctor arrived much sooner than expected and enthusiastically reported that everything went well.

Those of you who know Shane will understand what a good omen it was when pigeons came to land on the tree outside his room.

Finally, this is the view from the room wherein we have been embraced by family (Shane’s parents; my mother in person; my father in spirit; our three wonderful kids; my dear cousin Wendy who, with her husband and through gentle persuasion, helped changed the course of Shane’s treatment significantly for the good; proudly red-clad Uncle Doug and Aunt Earlene who hugged their strength into my bones before heading over to the BYU-Utah game) and nursed by angels Shari, Mackenzie, Charles and Anoma, (to name a few) and checked on by doctors and interns and residents.

In truth we have been treated so well here I now feel compelled to (as Doug promised, but Earlene–as much as she loves us–couldn’t quite bring herself to do for our beloved BYU Blue) let out a quiet cheer for the Utes tonight when they make a good play.

Update and Q&A: Shane looks good and is doing well. He slept most of the afternoon, but now is able to stay awake till the morphine hits. He’s in good spirits and good form as evidenced by his teasing of the nurses and the aides. He likes bringing a smile to their faces and I hope it makes their 12-15 hour shifts go by a little more quickly. I’m happy to be able to find small and simple things to do to bring him a little comfort and make sure all the bases are covered by the spread-too-thinly but amazingly wonderful nursing staff. If all continues to go well Shane will be discharged tomorrow morning. We will not have the results of the final path report until late next week because they have to decalcify the tissue before the biopsy can be completed and the doctor won’t tell us the results until we can meet face-to-face for the follow-up. But we are not worried. We’ve been assured that Shane will be healed and we know it will be so. There is great peace in that knowledge.