Don't Look My Way

My fifty-one-year-old brother found out late last week that he has cancer. Testicular cancer.

This was not the news I was expecting to receive when my brother called me last night. I'd been out picking up my MIL at a friend's house and missed his call. He sounded perfectly normal on the voice mail message he left and I assumed he just called to check in and see what was new with us. I'd spoken to my mother on Friday and she'd mentioned that he had told her that he wanted to come with my niece to visit us next summer. I told my mom that I was thrilled with the idea of him coming to visit and I assumed she'd relayed that message and it had inspired him to give me a call.

If I had to predict the topics of conversation in which we'd engage when I called him back, him telling me that he's going for surgery on Tuesday to have his testicle removed would not have made the top ten. It wouldn't have made the top ten thousand.

Brother gave me the news and I didn't know what to do with it. Of course I'm concerned but even though a day has passed since he told me I still am not quite sure what to do with the information. Being worried and scared seems pointless and unhelpful. I asked him questions but he doesn't know what's going to happen past surgery because that's when they'll be able to determine whether the cancer has spread. He doesn't feel sick - all he can say is that he can feel the tumor and he likens it to having a stone in your shoe. It's irritating but not terribly painful. I asked him questions and told him I'm praying for an excellent outcome to his surgery and that I love him. I said I'd keep in touch with our mother to find out the latest. And then we talked about him and my niece coming to visit. Hard news delivered, looked at and put aside. Now we'll talk about normal things because moving forward is what we do best.

My brother is not the first person I know who has had cancer. I've had friends who have been diagnosed with cancer and some of them have since passed away from it. A cousin died from breast cancer. Both of my maternal grandparents died from cancer. And still I felt a detachment from the disease. Cancer was something that I could liken to a distant acquaintance - maybe my face seemed familiar but it didn't know my name. It feels a little different now.