My Dad and I went to Overlake today to meet with an Oncologist referred to him by a friend of a friend. We didn't have any expectations, but it is impossible to ignore hope when it glimmers.
He walked in resembling a younger version of Santa Claus and I would be lying if I said I didn't get the Christmas Eve butterflies. How could this jolly man give us bad news? Impossible!
With impeccable bedside manner and soulful eyes, he delivered the same news we heard from the Group Health Oncologist about a month ago. While I appreciated his approach, I think it hurts more to be served words like "about 3 months", "general declination", "extensive", "fast growing" and "I am so sorry" from Santa. Where was our Christmas miracle?
We left Santa with a spurious smile and a garbage basket full of used tissues.
Today has been hard. Facing mortality, even when it isn't your own, is a daunting task on a good day.
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