"Your dad's biopsy came back positive for prostate cancer. lu- mom"
I was standing in line at a Wal-Mart in Florida with my six year old daughter, Aliyah, buying a sun hat and sun screen for a day at the beach.
"Oh, no!" I exclaimed (I may have said something else, but I'm not admitting it). Aliyah looked up at me and said, "What's wrong, mommy?" I gave her my best fake smile and said, "Nothing, sweetheart. I just thought I lost something, but I found it. Everything is ok." I turned my head and fought back the tears. I was hundreds of miles away from home in order to enjoy a relaxing Christmas break. Now what?
The next text message came a few hours later:
"More 'good' news. Vicki [my mom's sister] has breast cancer."
At this point I seriously considered blocking my mother's number. Seriously, what the hell?
Turns out I had it easy. My brother later told me that when dad called him with the news that the cancer was aggressive, my dad's voice broke and he had to hand the phone to mom. I've only seen my dad cry once, when his father died. He's just too machismo for tears. And I've never, ever seen him scared before. At least, not until the weekend before surgery.
In the weeks leading up to the surgery, I visited my parents several times. Dad would smile, we would find things to laugh about. I even took him out to dinner once and listened to him share more candidly about himself than he ever had before. When he mentioned that he had lost focus a few times while teaching, I asked whether he had considered counseling.
"After all, dad, this is a major life event."
"Yeah, your mom said the same thing. Really, I'm fine."
Damn machismo.
Grandma Velazquez flew into town a few days before the surgery. My sister flew in from Houston. We all spent most of the weekend at their house, eating more Puerto Rican food than anyone ever should, laughing, hugging, making plans for the future. Dad continued to try to hide his apprehension, but all of us could see it.
"Do you think dad's scared?" I asked my sister.
"Oh, yeah. And so is mom. But dad's trying to hide it and mom's trying to be the strong one."
Mom is a strong woman, no doubt about it, but dad had always been the rock. Nothing ever frightened him, and all three of us kids had always depended on that. Dad would, and probably could, take on all the forces of darkness for his children and grandchildren. He is the reason we have so much confidence. With dad at our backs, we could face anything. And now he was scared?
It was time for us to finally step us and have his back. My brother met my parents at the hospital the morning of the surgery and waited with mom for hours. We've all taken time out to spend with them. Most of all, we've carried the family courage for a little while, until dad can take it on again.
No fear in our eyes, dad. We always believe in our hero.
7 comments:
you likely don't know me, but i know you. your dad was my high school madrigals director and we used to go to church together at Westside. anyways. i have been following this journey with your family and wanted you to know that you all my prayers and love.
I'm sorry to hear of your Dad's cancer....my Dad had brain cancer, and anymore, it seems like it is an epidemic. I am currently reading "Anti Cancer: A New Way of Life" by David Servan-Schreiber, MD PhD. I also read Suzanne Somers (I know.....) book where she interviews various doctors on their alternative approach to cancer treatment. This is going to sound terrible, but I don't see a cure for cancer coming any time soon, as it is too much of a moneymaker. Chemo and radiation are barbaric; there has to be a better way. IMO, the environment, the food and water supply, pharmaceuticals and possibly even the prevalent usage of cell phones are all factors in the battle with cancer, and we are losing.
I'm thinking of you and your family as you love on your Dad and each other through his treatment.....it does cause you to do some serious thinking about life; not taking it for granted, making the most of each day, your faith, and ?s about life in general.....
I am very glad your family is so close. That very much helps during bad times.
Sis- well written. Thanks for sharing your perspective. We are so blessed to have the dad we do! Love you.
Glad to read that your Dad's surgery was successful, and no chemo or radiation. Wonderful news :) Very happy for your family!
you don't actually know me, I went to highschool with David and stumbled across your blog that way... but I felt like I wanted to say something, whether it will be helpful or not is completely up in the air.
last month we found out that I have cancer, Hodgkin's lymphoma. I am assured that it is 90-95% curable... but I won't lie, it's scary as heck. It changes your whole life in a moment. I'm very sorry about your dad's cancer and I don't know what his prognosis will ultimately be, but I can tell you that your whole perspective on life changes when you hear the word "cancer." Having a close family is more important than anything else in the world.
I don't know how I would have made it through these last weeks of uncertainty, fear and frequently uncomfortable and invasive tests without the support of my family and friends. I do know that it is much easier for me to be sick than it would be for me to watch someone I love battle cancer.
I just want you to know, that no matter how powerless you may feel with not being able to somehow make it all better, that you are helping so much just by being there. Talking to your dad, listening to him, sharing love and time... those are the most important things you can do and bring him more peace than any doctor or procedure ever could.
I hope your dad does very well with his treatment and that you and your family will grow stronger through this terrible experience. I will be thinking of you and your family.
Leslie- I'm so sorry about your diagnosis, but glad to hear that you have loving, supportive family. Thank you for your courage in sharing your story. It's good to hear that just being there for my dad can make a difference. This has been a wild ride for all of us.
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