The “C” Word – Day 1 The Elephant in the Room

The silence is deafening.  Thoughts going out in a hundred different directions.  Faces somber, tear streaked.

You can feel the elephant in the room.  But you cannot see it.  It is pressing down on our chests making it hard to breathe, pinning us in place in moments frozen in time, too scared to move forward. 

Reality is sinking in.  This “C” word…. this horrible, dreaded word that no one wants to hear.  But today we must give it its due and say it out loud . . . to our children.  This elephant’s name is cancer, Peritoneal Carcitomosis to be exact.

I wasn’t in the room when George told Stephanie or Chris.  But I was when he called Sara.  And he immediately broke down and could scarcely get the words out.  Silence and tears flowed on the other end of the line as well.  I asked him if he cried like that when he told the others and he replied, “No”.  I asked what the difference was and he said, “It’s because she’s lost one (dad) already.”  Huge sobs escaped him.  “I know”, I whispered. 

Day one of preliminary diagnosis ebbed and flowed.  Silence… tears…. sobs…. We reached out for prayers and had so many responses.  When George’s best friend, Larry, called there were words of encouragement, words of prayer, words of love spoken.  “You are a good man, George.  You always have been.  God is going to watch over you.”  After hanging up the phone, George broke down yet again while I held him.

We tried to have some normalcy in the afternoon.  Sunday afternoon football.  Recorded wood working programs.  They were on, but we weren’t really watching them. 

As we sat together, holding hands as the day turned into evening, George turned to me and said, “I’m a little scared.  No, I am a lot scared.” 

“Me, too”, I replied.  “Me, too.  There is so much fear in this middle place, this not knowing exactly what we are dealing with.  This is one of the hardest parts of the journey.  The period of waiting to see to get more information.”

We started a list of questions to ask.  We are sure they won’t get answered tomorrow when we see the doctor, but we need to have a list ready.  “Have you seen the CT scan?”  “What’s the prognosis?” “Treatment plan”, “Survival rate”, “How can I help?” “Can we take our vacation?”, “How soon does treatment start?” “What is next?”

By days’ end we were tired – emotionally drained – ready for bed – ready for what would surely be night of dreamless dreams and little sleep. Tomorrow we begin the journey… the journey of the world of cancer.