So.

I feel like a Peep smashed under the Wheel of Life.

Granted, it's a huge overreaction on my part. But I'd been told my son's neurosurgeon was retiring next year. It wasn't true, thankfully. Or, well, not exactly. He's stepping down, but he'll still be seeing patients for some time. I was so ecstatic I could have tackled his secretary through the phone when she clarified things for me.

The thing is, it's now occurred to me that he will retire one day and that we'll have to switch surgeons. As in concretely and truly going to happen.

Don't get me wrong. It's not unexpected. We certainly figured this would happen one day, and we'd never argue the man did not deserve to do so. No one gives of their time and and experience and talents as he does. No one.

Nope. No one.

And I know everything will be fine. We've entrusted our two children's brains to him. Their futures, their lives. Our everything. So I know we can trust him to refer us to a new, just as wonderful surgeon once he moves on. And we've been reassured by those of you out there who've gone through similar shifts in care and tell us all's been well.

I just didn't think it would ever really happen. Crazy, I know. But the man is Superman in my heart. My brain is just telling it to snap out it now, these delusions of mine.

It'll be okay. I know it will. (You all said so, so it must be true. )And this is probably a good thing because now that I know this is inevitable, in my heart as well as my mind, we can plan for it. Be prepared for it.

And that fact makes me feel better--being a scha-mushed Peep is not fun. Not at all. But now eating a sch-mushed Peep...that's a different story.