Aren't there any cancer rules? Here's one I would have thought would be near the top: you can't tell a guy he has cancer twice in one day.
We'd calmed down my mother, noted my luck in the tumor being found, and were on to making a plan to find the best kidney surgeon in Chicago. The phone rang, and it was my friend, Dr. L, who said he was outside my mom's place, but didn't want to come in. I figured he was in a hurry, and met him outside.
"You have got to have another endoscopy."
"I'm tired, Dr. L. Is it really so urgent?"
"The pathologist thinks he sees some suspicious cells in the tissue samples we took."
"Suspicious? Cancer suspicious?"
And by the way, POW!
I think I actually fell back against the wall. I knew enough about stomach cancer to be scared. It wasn't any fun for Dr. L either, since we've known each other for almost twenty years. He told me we'd found it about as early as medically possible, and that the prognosis was much better than a typical case of gastric cancer. That helped. Then it was back inside, where I wasn't going to speak a word of it to anyone; not until we had confirmation.
