Waiting, Hoping, Praying

"Your mom definitely has cancer."

These are not words one ever expects to hear, I am certain. But they are the words my dad spoke into the phone last Friday night. Panic and shock took over at the same time. I became a robot. I could not process more than that. Cancer. My mom. 62. Healthy. No "risk factors." No genetic predisposition to this disease. My first question: why? Why did this happen to her? Why did it happen now? Why am I in New Jersey and hearing this news over the phone? Why didn't I anticipate this? Why, why, why?

After recovering from the initial shock, I had questions. Is it contained? Can it be treated? Can it be cured? How do we do that? What will it take? Do I need to come down? How did she take the news? How are you, dad? Who else knows? How did this happen? The fact is, it has happened to our family. The dreaded diagnosis is a part of our new normal.

The most difficult part of the entire cancer process is the waiting. From the moment of diagnosis, days slowly pass before getting answers to those burning questions. When all you really want is a quick, easy solution, medical science needs time to analyze the data. Our wait was over Wednesday morning, a grueling 4 1/2 days since the diagnosis. Contained (thank you, God.). Low grade (thank you, God.). Transitional cell carcinoma. Taking it to the cancer board, because it is a rare cancer. Removal of left kidney may be "curative," based on the fact that it is contained. More questions. When will the surgery be? How long is recovery? What can we expect in terms of quality of life? Who will be the surgeon? When should I come? How and what do I tell my children?

More waiting. Three days passed before the date was given: Dec. 3rd. 12-3-09. The day my mom will lose her kidney to this dreaded disease. Recovery is a little difficult to pinpoint, because the procedure will be done laproscopically. Yes, you read correctly: they can take an organ out laproscopically. Amazing. Her right kidney is healthy enough to work for both. Her surgeon, Dr. L., is someone we know. Come the day before surgery. Tell the children that Nahnee will be fine, that she needs an operation to take out a part of her body that isn't working any more.

Now, we wait for surgery. It is in five days. After that, we wait for the right kidney to begin working for both. After that, we wait for the post-op pathology results. And then, we wait, and hope, and pray that this cancer is, indeed, CURED.