(WAIT FOR IT . . . WAIT FOR IT)
Telling someone bad news is no picnic for anyone.
The day of my biopsy (Thursday Nov 7th), the tech called my family doctor and they agreed that when the results came back on the following Monday (11th), that St. Luke's would be the one calling me with the news. On Friday (Nov.8th), I got a confusing call from St. Luke's telling me to got to Dr. Beck's office at 10:00 the following Monday for the results. Uh Oh! That didn't sound good. I figured that maybe it wasn't going to be good and that they wanted me to hear it from somebody face-to-face.
I told Lon on Sunday night that Jenny Beck always came into the exam room with a big, sunny smile on her face, so that when we met with her either; (A). she was smiling and we were cool or (B). she was serious, then we knew we were screwed. Lon said when he went to bed, he just kept repeating in his mind, "Smile, Jenny. Smile, Jenny. Smile, Jenny."
At 8:30 Monday, Luke's calls and says, "Your results are back. You have cancer." What tha. . .! Thanks for dropping a bombshell over the phone, honey. I told the lady that we were supposed to hear from Beck at 10:00. You could almost hear her cringe when she realized that things had gotten mixed up and that she not only got stuck telling me but it was a case where she WASN'T supposed to. See, telling someone bad news is no picnic.
At 10:00, we met with Dr. Beck. When she came into, the room, she was not smiling. We reassured her that we had already gotten the news, but she was still quite upset, from planning how to tell us the news. After I fussed a bit, I tried to lighten the mood, by teasing her that her original plan was to stick Luke's with telling me, and, God help me, I think I remember calling her a "Chickenshit". Sorry, Jenny, didn't mean it. I was just kidding you. Telling someone bad news is no picnic.
OKAY, HERE IS THE BIG SECRET I HAVE BEEN KEEPING.
Wait for it ... Wait for it ... I haven't told my dad about any of this yet.
I know, I know, I must be a crummy daughter, but I just can't bring myself to do it. I have tried talking my sisters into doing it for me, but it was "NO WAY!" and "UH UH!" and "NOT ME!" I didn't want to upset him before Christmas. I even took his gift out to the farm early, because I wasn't sure I would have hair at Christmas, and then the jig would be up if he saw me bald. He's 87 years old and he doesn't take bad news well. I'm afraid he will be driving everyone nuts talking about it, and, honestly, I am going to beat this, so it's not as though I am going to drop dead next week.
I think I am at the point where it won't bother me to talk to him about it, but at first it was so painful and raw, that I could only talk to Lon and Jenna about it without bawling. Now I'm cool with it. It's just something I'll get through and get on with life.
TELLING SOMEONE BAD NEWS IS NO PICNIC. That's for darn sure.
GOD BLESS YOU ALL