The Bad News
No news is good news we often think. I was at Jamie’s house for two weeks without a word from my doctor. I thought it was a good thing that he hadn’t reached out. Time had passed, four weeks in total since my surgery. My thoracic surgeon’s officed called and invited me for a visit. Jamie and I went together, I was weak and could barely breathe, every gasp for air felt like I was being torn in half and every muscle groaned with each step I took.
We sat across from my doctor as he began to speak. “I have bad news for you Mr. White. We thought we were able to remove all of the cancer, unfortunately we discovered it has spread to your lymphatic system.” He paused for a moment, and I could feel my heart sink. “We thought you had an indolent slow growing cancer, but we have since learned it is a higher grade and is far more aggressive than we thought.”
I dropped my head as my eyes began to burn. I deeply hoped this nightmare was over, but at that moment I realized it had only begun.
“We are strongly urging you to consider chemotherapy. It should extend your life; we believe it is the best course of action.” As he spoke I began to cry. The news was too much. Jamie stepped in and began asking questions, she was being strong for me. She understood the road I was about to walk, and I could hear the fear in her words as they entered my ear.
The doctor handed her some information as I raised my head. My watery eyes began to dry, and all my will slipped from my soul. We walked away from the hospital that morning, the air was cold, and I felt my inner light begin to dim. Later I contacted my friends and shared with them what I was about to begin.
