I had to blog this morning.
My husband passed along a piece of pretty bad news to me at 5 am this morning.
His father has been suffering with a "hanger on" cold--you know, the cough that just won't leave?
So after a bout with antibiotics and Vicks and breathing treatments, Doctor sent him to Xray.
Then Doctor sent him to biopsy.
Getting the picture yet? I can't even write it down. The word simply strikes fear into my heart, and all I can imagine/hope, is that it's really only a small scar from the bout of pneumonia he had a year or so ago.
That's my story and I'm sticking to it. Doctor's don't know everything there is to know--that's why they call it "practice", right?
I can't bear to think of losing my Canasta partner to that awful, black hateful word.
So I'm pretty scared--and of course, it doesn't sit really well with me that my husband suffered with the idea for 24 hours before he told me about it. What took him so long?????????????
I know his sister will take it hardest--they just moved to Florida for her husband's job, and she's really close to her mom and dad--this will just tear her apart...not to mention me! He is, after all, the BEST DARN CANASTA PLAYER IN THE WORLD.