For two days I’ve been trying to hook words together like a train, one car after another. It’s not working. I’ve tried to be clever, to be funny. I’ve tried sincerity, intellectualism, and stoicism. I’ve tried to be smart, or dumb, or whatever it took to be articulate. Nothing has worked. I have no cutsey pictures to precede this post.
So, maybe I’ll just tell the truth.
The truth is, I’m still scared.
Every lung test has shown that My Dan is in Stage I lung cancer, the best of all possibilities. We’re non-smokers. This should be easy.
Yet, I’m still scared.
The thought that My Dan has been invaded once more by cancer is not acceptable. Not acceptable, in the least. Still, the news is good. Every test so far indicates that this one (just like his prostate cancer) was caught incidental and before any spread. So far, we’re operating on a Stage I lung cancer, get-that-lobe-out scenario.
We expect surgery sometime next week or the week after. As far as I’m concerned, it’s going to be a very good Holiday. We’ve already put up the Christmas tree and I’m looking for a menorah to cover all the bases. I know, I’m silly.
Still, the truth really is…I’m scared. On the day of Dan’s surgery, I’ll sit alone, in a hard, straight-backed chair, waiting for good news. But this isn’t about me or my discomfort. This is about My Dan, and the whole thing for him really sucks. Can I say that? Yeah. It sucks.