The Biopsy Results Are In

May 26,2010

Last night, between 2:30 & 3:00 am, I heard a noise upstairs that woke me up. I went up and peeked in on the boys who were all sleeping peacefully. As I turned back toward Dad’s room, I heard something. It was one of those noises you know you should recognize but just can’t quite put your finger on. I tiptoed as quietly as I could down the hall and stopped short of the doorway as I saw Mom’s wheelchair roll into view, followed by Dad pushing it. It only took an instant for me to register that he had her cremains in it and was pushing it around the bedroom. He was talking softly to “her”.
With the definite feeling that I was intruding on something incredibly precious and extremely private, I began to back my way out of sight. It wasn’t until I reached the stairs that I realized tears were flowing down my face. In that moment, I missed her more than I have since the moment she died.
This morning when I went to wake the boys for school, I glanced in on Dad. Her remains were back in their place on top of her jewelry chest and the wheelchair was back in its place. I would have been able to have convinced myself it had all been a dream until I noticed that one of her favorite shirts (the only piece of clothing Dad had insisted on keeping) was draped over the back of the wheelchair and one of her porcelain dolls was in the seat. I knew he had found his own way of connecting with her in the wee hours of the morning and I was happy for him.


Just after lunch today the phone rang. It was Dad’s primary physician’s nurse. The test results from the biopsies he’d had last week were in. The good news is the results on his wrist were normal. The bad news… on the cheek was a definite malignancy. She explained that he was being sent to a Dermatologist (who would determine if it was simply skin involved). The fear is that it has already progressed enough to be in his cheekbone. At his age, and in his state of physical health, Dad cannot have Chemotherapy. My heart shattered yet again as I absorbed the ramifications. Arrangements were made for the Doctor to call my cell phone over the next couple of days to schedule an appointment (I will be out of town for the next several days). We were going to move very quickly on this.
As soon as I got off the phone, I went and sat down on the floor next to Dad’s chair. I put a hand on his arm. “Dad, that was the doctor’s office. They got the results of your biopsies back.”
“Well, what did they say?” His eyes were so clear and aware. His voice was strong when he said, “What happens now?”
I replied, “We go to a new doctor. We are being sent to a dermatologist and he will tell us where we go from here.”
He grinned. He actually grinned and patted my hand, “Well, we are just going to have to make it clear to him that we can’t have him cutting my face all up. My public demands that I look good and I’m sure Hollywood will be calling any day now with my new contract.”
I couldn’t help but smile (this has been a running joke as long as I have known Mom and Dad). I saw the worry enter his eyes but he put on a brave face. “If we have to go to a new doctor, then we have to go. But I think it’s all a waste of time.”
“Dad, we have to fight this thing.”
“Ok, if you say so. I guess I don’t have much choice if I want to stay alive.” He smiled again as he winked. “But we have to call my agent first thing in the morning.”
My heart sang as I realized something… Dad wants to live!