Day 3

Today has started off relatively quiet. We took Sis’ ‘A’-cord (Honda Accord, Sis always pronounces it AAAAY-cord, she also calls the windshield a “window-shield”) to the body shop. Did I mention the deer? That was on Saturday. The thing just jumped out right in front of us and . . . bam. I don’t know if it survived or not. When I looked in the rearview mirror I’d swear I saw it running across the road. At any rate, we took a little of it’s hide with us right in the grill.

We had an appointment for a CAT scan and a mammogram at 2. We didn’t feel like eating, so we didn’t. At this point I’ve lost about 10 pounds since Saturday. I’m only about 5 short of my goal weight now.

Things are a little less shaky right now, but I still feel like throwing up all the time. Either that or I’m really hungry. I can’t tell. I’m pretty sure I’ve been on an adrenaline rush since Monday night. It reminds of the first time I played in front of people. I was about 13 years old. It was at the Majestic Lodge with my dad and the casual group he was playing with. I sat in on bass and we did “Hello Dolly”. My left kneecap began to jump up and down. I had no control over it. It didn’t stop the entire time we were playing. It had a life of it’s own. I also felt like throwing up. If you knew me better you’d understand the significance of feeling like throwing up. I’ve only thrown up once in over forty years, and that was the flu. I just don’t throw up. I never even feel like throwing up . . . but I do now.

Well, the CAT scan and mammogram are over. I like those kinds of tests. They’re less painful than having a big needle plunged down into your shoulder blade. Sis does really well with needles and her veins are easy to hit. You just aim at the bruises on her arms. You can’t miss.

Okay, let’s try eating now. We used to go to place called “Dalt’s” all the time. It’s right down the street so, why not? Sis has chicken, I have 9 layer dip, we pick at it a while and give up.

When we get home we get a call from doctor Church, the moment of truth. It’s cancer.

She’s really a good doctor and a good communicator. I’ll always have nothing but respect for her. She had the unenviable task of telling us that not only was it cancer, but that it was also in several places. The tumor on the scapula (shoulder blade) was likely not primary, which meant it had spread. The primary cancer was likely in the lung.

Sis and I were both on the phone, but we weren’t in the same room. I was furiously scribbling down notes, feeling like I could throw up, now more than ever, and I could hear how it was hitting Sis. Her voice grew quiet, dropped to nearly a whisper as she took this blow. Her breathing was shallow. I started tingling all over. I’ve suffered with migraines and sometimes when I have one everything seems to go grey and out of focus. It was like that. Everything was blurry except right where I was writing on the paper in front of me. We were hitting bottom.

Anybody who knows Sis knows about her energy, her strength of will, and her enthusiasm. She runs at warp speed all the time. It takes a lot to bring this whirlwind down, and I’m usually right there with her. We had hit the frickin’ cancer wall.

I want to give doctor Church a lot of credit. She has never backed down a second from telling us the truth, and she has never hesitated or flinched in fighting against this cancer. She’s our kind of people.

This is the darkest night I’ve ever experienced.

<back