So, gentle reader. I won't keep you in suspense. We are firmly NOT in Universe B, option 2, direction of don't-even-think-about-it.
We are in Universe A.
But my euphoria is tempered by the fact that it's still not the universe where none of this happened. We're not in the group of worst possible news. We are, in fact, in the group of average-bustingly good news... albeit still tenuous.
The resection went well. They had to remove a significantly larger portion of tissue than expected. None of the potentially horrible affiliations were found, thus far everything looks clear. Of course, the poor patient looks like a zombie that got hit with a mac-truck. The patient is, however, decidedly on the mend.
No news as yet concerning follow up therapies or directions. Universe A will contain many of them. For months and years to come. Universe A has a great big dodged bullet hanging over it. We all know it. We all are still waiting - instinctively, because we know better - and reserving our all-out gratitude and thankfulness for the day when a clean-as-possible bill of health again resembles a nothing-was-ever-wrong-to-begin-with bill of health. We're all still waiting for the other shoe to drop. And silently, we're all jubilant that we're not in Universe B.
Schroedinger's cat came out of the box dizzy and hacking, but alive. I'm going to hug that cat and feed it and love it and pet it and spoil it absolutely rotten.
I heartily welcome us to it.