The Phone Call
I have been waiting all day to write this post, wondering how this story would end. Well, if I’m honest, I’ve been waiting for five days, but the wait only got really hard these past eight hours or so.
Let me back up…
Last Thursday was a mess. A dear friend of mine had gotten great news, then horrible news in the span of less than hour, then surgery, then a collapsed lung, and I was on my way to her house to offer some comfort when I received the first call.
It was Mom.
She tried to sound calm as she explained what the urologist discovered about Dad’s kidney stones. But I could hear the underlying tension and stress in her voice. There was no denying that there was a “but” at the end of her sentence.
“…so the doctor wants to wait to see if the 2nd stone passes on its own…”
Pause. And not being known for my patience, I interjected, “But what?”
“They found a mass in his prostate. They want to do further tests.”
Silence. Then all of Hades fell down around me and over the phone line. This was it, the last and final straw. God and I were going to have words, and it wasn’t going to be pretty. I quickly excused myself from our conversation, not even stopping to hear the whats, wheres, and whys of the rest of that sentence.
Jon answered a call where the wife was in full meltdown mode. I’m not sure how he managed to understand a single word in between the sobs and freaking out, but he did. And told me to get to his job as fast and as safely as I could.
And again, I’m not sure how I managed to make it to his job, but I’m thankful for a van that can drive itself there with little guidance from me. Once in Jon’s arms, I allowed the full weight of the implications settle over me and while I sobbed, the only question I asked was to wonder how much God thought we could take.
As the rest of the day went on, I found myself getting calmer. I’m sure it was the results of numerous family and friends sending up prayers on our behalf. Even just a few hours later, I was certain of two things. One, it might not even be cancer. And two, if it was cancer, Dad would beat it. There was little doubt of that.
Yesterday Dad went in for blood work and the appointment was today at 2:30pm. I have been able to maintain a calm façade for most of the past five days, but that came crashing down around 8:00am this morning because I knew today would bring the answers we’d been dreading but wanting. The time of the appointment couldn’t get here fast enough.
I got off the phone with my parents over an hour and a half ago and I’m over the moon with the results. His PSA numbers are less than one, which means either a) there’s no cancer at all or b) the cancer was caught SO early, it hasn’t had time to grow. I’m quite happy with either result actually. And we’ll know more after his biopsy next month. (Which to be honest, the fact that they’re waiting for a month for a biopsy is further proof to me that they’re not worried. In my expert, medical opinion, and all.)
Five days of unknown. Five days and I somehow managed to maintain some semblance of composure. Since the initial meltdown anyways. I can only chalk that up to family and friends standing in the gap for us.
And now that its September 4th and the results are better than I had dared hope, let’s chalk this experience as a fitting way to end this Craptastic Summer. I am closing the book on this whole summer and filing it under “Summers I Never Want to Repeat Again. Ever.”
Please let it really be the end this time. We need a break for a little while… at least a few months.