My Surgeon is a Cheeky Monkey

In the days after my discharge from hospital, I read a lot and rested at my parents' place.  Turns out, I'm an impatient patient and I was bored pretty quickly so my friends all showed up for a potluck dinner and we had a lot of laughs.  It wore me out but I guess I'm like my late Gram who would rather have passed out from exhaustion on the couch during a party than actually excuse herself and go to bed.  She just didn't want to miss anything and neither do I!  TeeTee stayed over with me as the next day was my follow-up appointment with the surgeon.  He was to remove my staples and I was worried that was going to hurt.  I told him I was nervous about that and he said it would be fine.  I said that's what they told me at the hospital about having the drain removed and that didn't go so well.  He removed the first one and asked if it hurt.  It didn't at all and he said that would be the worst one.  I said I was going to scream so TeeTee would hear me, you know, just to freak her out.  He said I could scream if I wanted to just for effect.  I decided to be kind and not do so.  He demonstrated a couple of exercises I would need to do to get the range of motion back in my left arm due to the lymph node extraction.  It's amazing how such a simple task can become so difficult.  I got dressed and we joined TeeTee in his office to talk about what's next.  We shared with TeeTee the plan of screaming earlier and she called my surgeon a "cheeky monkey".  I'm thinking that's a first for him!  He told us they "got it all", meaning the tumour, and said I'd next hear from the oncologist at the Cancer Clinic as to what "stage" I'm at, although they don't call it that anymore, and when I start my chemotherapy and radiation therapy.  Yikes.  That sounds so serious.