Not Ready Yet

Ella: “Daddy, are you getting older?”

Daddy: “Yes, Sweetheart. We are all getting older.”

Ella: “How old was your daddy when he died?”

I knew where this was going. Ella has been talking about death quite a bit lately. I don’t think it’s a morbid curiosity. They’ve been talking about heaven in Sunday school, and after Gus died, I think her five-year-old brain is trying to process life and death.

Daddy: “He was 73.”

Ella: “You aren’t close to 73 are you?”

Daddy: “No, Sweet Pea. Daddy is a long way from 73. I’m going to be here a long time.”

Ella: “That’s good. I don’t want you to die.”

I don’t know the proper age to start being fully open and honest with your children, but I decided that it wasn’t five years old. So I didn’t tell her that I was waiting on the results of a prostate biopsy.

I’m a daydreamer, and my mind often wanders into other worlds and parallel realities. Sometimes those dreams make me ask what my life would be like without my girls. It’s a place I hope I never have to visit. But in all those dreams, one question never entered my mind – what would their life be like without me?

Like any other red-blooded American male, I have always considered myself invincible. Even when I crossed forty years old and parts of my body started breaking, I never thought it was anything that could completely take me down. All it took was one phone call from my doctor to change that.

“Andy, the results from your blood work came back, and they don’t look good. It’s likely that you have cancer, so we need to do a biopsy.

I did not see that coming. There are many things that run in my family, but cancer isn’t one of them.

High blood pressure? Sure. I’ll put the over/under at 190/150.

Strokes? We super-size them.

Kidney stones? The size of walnuts.

Incredible good looks and deity-like intelligence? Obviously.

But not cancer. Nobody in my family gets cancer.

So, I had to endure the pleasant experience of getting a prostate biopsy to find out if I had cancer or not. Some things are better left unsaid, and the details of a prostate biopsy probably fall into that category. But I will give a tip to all my urologist friends, don’t shove an ultrasound up somebody’s butt and say, “Now, just relax.” It’s impossible to honor that request. That’s like telling a Kardashian, “Now, don’t draw attention to yourself.”

I had to wait five days to find out that I didn’t have cancer.

During those five days, I made sure to give my girls a few extra hugs and
throw in an extra “Daddy loves you” each day. Now, I realize that I should
live every day like those five days. Every day deserves a few extra hugs and
telling somebody that you love them just one more time than usual.

Something else happened during those five days.  One realization continually punched me in the
chest and is still punching me in the chest – I know the eternal resting place
of my soul is secure, but I’m not ready yet. I’m not ready to stop being a
daddy yet.