The Call

Well it finally happened. I got the call every child dreads -- my father called to tell me he's been diagnosed with cancer. He was stoic, even detached in his delivery of the information, which I have come to recognize as his technique to cover up his worry. I know he's scared, but he would never let on. And now, everything changes, all because of a single phone call. How many times has this same scenario played itself out in the kitchens of homes throughout the country? And what are the outcomes? The mind races with the possibilities -- both good and bad!!

He doesn't know much, except that it's serious -- doctors removed a swollen gland from his left armpit the size of a golf ball and one from his right armpit that was even larger. Both were biopsied and determined to be malignant with melanoma. He will be having a PET scan and an MRI this week to determine how widespread and at what stage the cancer has developed. We will all be sweating out the next few days.

My dad has been battling skin cancer for many years. Once a quarter he's been seeing a dermatologist to have bad looking lesions removed. He wears protective clothing and a hat and religiously applies sun block -- now. But he didn't always. For years, he allowed himself to be exposed to the sun unprotected and now he is paying for his folly. But this is different -- this cancer has moved inside his body and is in the lymph nodes. All his ailments up to now: arthritis, high blood pressure, neuropathy and heart valve surgery have been light work compared to the big C -- cancer. This is time, I'm scared too.