16 June 2009


ain't just a river in Egypt, you know.

Today, Dad has a bone scan and tomorrow a CT scan (or may be the other way around, I forget) to find out exactly what extent of cancer we're looking at.

I called Mom yesterday; as it was her birthday, and even though I set out not to talk about it at all, the conversation eventually turned to Dad's diagnosis.

She said that Dad's always been pretty good about getting a yearly physical, with some nagging gentle prodding from her. She said that this year, she didn't even get around to reminding him that it was time; he just told her that he'd made an appointment.

She found out yesterday that the reason that he made the appointment was that "something didn't feel right".

Before I could ask if she knew what that meant, she added that even though he is her husband, there are just some things that she doesn't want to know.

Turns out that the test that they use to determine prostate cancer- those numbers have been on the steady increase for Dad. I guess that he had a biopsy a couple of years ago, just to check things. And at that point, things were in an okay range.

Six of the twelve samples at last weeks biopsy came back with cancer.

Mom told Heather, my sister, that she thinks that Dad was in complete denial when he made the phone calls on Friday. Living in a state of "I'll be fine; no one dies from this"- and then, by Monday, coming to the realization that it is cancer and the success rate for cure is not 100%.

So some men-who are husbands, fathers, grandfathers- still die.

And here's the pervading thought that is keeping me awake at night.

If, next week when Mom and Dad are in the urologists office, they find out that indeed, the cancer is beyond the prostate- if it got in to the lymph node system or bones- the odds that he will die have just skyrocketed.

We hope and pray that will not be the case, but the possibility exists. And there's no sense in denying that.

But I have hope. And the good news is, I'm not in control. I could do nothing- or I could let the worry and fear continue to keep me awake at night- and that won't change one second of the path my Dad has to walk.

Because God sees, and He knows.

And He loves Dad more that I could possibly ever. He loves Dad more that Mom does. He has everyone's best interest at heart, cancer or no cancer.

There's no denying that.


Ethan, Zach, and Emma's Mom said...

My heart goes out to you! You're in my prayers--if you ever need to talk, I'm here!

Helen said...

Oh Wow :( I'm sorry you all are having to deal with this stress and uncertainty! My prayers go out to you and your family!