Shock and hope.
28 August, 2014
Hi Baby boy.
I’m not sure how old you’ll be when you read this, but by now I imagine you’ll know what it’s like to have a bad day. For me, Monday was one of those days.
Work was a chore. You know when you have a list of things to accomplish, but lots of unexpected requests start coming in that prevent you from being really productive? It was one of those days. Plus I was feeling a little out of sorts anyway. Monday. Blegh.
Finally I get finished and go home. Your pop is making burritos and has one of our favorite TV series cued up on Netflix. Things are definitely improving! Then the phone rings.
I learn my sister, your Aunt Vicki, has cancer. Vicki is my best friend. She is strong, healthy, hilarious and an awesome mom and wife. We have inside jokes that go back to the Stone Age. When we were kids, she was my constant companion, my song and dance partner, my sometimes-annoying tagalong. She is the best sister you could ever wish to have. As you might expect, this is the worst possible news you could get about your best friend.
It’s 3 days later now, and we don’t know much more. The docs have said that they THINK they caught it early. That surgery will probably have to happen, but it will be effective. That Vicki is young and strong and will handle it well. She has some tests tomorrow (to see if the cancer has spread), and a doc’s appointment on Tuesday of next week.
But time is moving in slow motion. Everyone is upset. I am distraught and impatient. I want answers now; I want to know what to expect, what will happen, and how I should be feeling. Optimistic? Frightened? Confident that she’ll recover?
For you, this is all years in the past. I hope you are reading this, knowing that it all turned out fine. That Aunt Vicki and Uncle Joe and your cousins Baelin and Phinn have been living happily and healthily for as long as you’ve known them. That’s all we ask for in life, right? Let it be so this time too.