I called into work today. I just couldn’t deal. I needed to think about all we were told yesterday and talk to my family about next steps. I ended up doing a little bit of work in the morning (I just can’t screw my co-workers over – that’s just not cool — so I shot off a couple of emails and then called it a day. Put on my out of office and prepared for cancer-time (read that in your head like “Santory-time” isn’t that the whiskey Bill Murray repped in Lost in Translation? Well, if I got it wrong, you know what I’m talking about! — so read it in your head like that!).
So I turn to cancer, and surprisingly there isn’t much happening. I was expecting a call from my parents at 11am PST. My phone rang at 10:50 PST — it was my dad. I thought the plan was to talk to my mom, dad and uncle Jushbai (PS – for you non- Indians reading this blog, we refer to all elder men and women as”uncle” and “auntie” even though there may or may not be an actual blood relation. In this particular case, there’s no blood relation — but a LONG family relation. He might as well be my uncle!).
After a few minutes, it became clear to me that my dad had snuck off to a different room to call me on his own. He was very nostalgic and weepy. I think, as a doctor, he knows that I am up against a big, ugly demon. And that my fight will be long and hard — but I will be fine. But as a father, this must kill him, inside and out. I suspect he’s been strong in front of my mom and others. But he called me and had a mini break down today.
It’s never fun to hear your daddy cry. Never.
So dad, this one’s for you — you KNOW in your heart that I will beat this. I will conquer. And, as you like to say, our warrior genes will assist me. And I will make you a granddad in the very near future. So, please don’t cry. All will be good.