And then what

The next 48 hours were torturous -- a game of tag between denial and the diagnosis. Tears of despair flow freely, no use trying to keep a stiff upper lip, they are uncontrollable. We finished the conversation with one imporatant question from me: what's the prognosis? My father said that at first the doctor wouldn't commit to an answer. But my father pressed and gave him a timeline to which he could negate or agree: one year? The doctor replied, "that would be a very long time."

My head started knocking on a virtual wall that was built upon bricks of fear, regret and shame. He couldn't leave so soon because no matter how many times he had said it in my lifetime I wanted him to be proud of me. Or maybe I just wanted to be proud enough of myself that it didn't matter what he thought anymore. Either way, I soon learned that no one is ever ready for this news. There's never enough until death.

We hung up and I took a long walk with a friend. For the record, it is true when you receive life-changing news: nothing will ever be the same again. But none of us are prepared to move forward when the road is uncharted -- we've been trained to plan and forecast before taking the next step. All that I could count on from this day forward was the fact that my father would not die in his sleep after a long, lazy dinner and a great bottle of Chateau Margaux accompanied by a host of assorted chocolates -- Dad's favorite combination. How the end would occur now depended entirely on how faced the diagnosis, explored every option under the sun and then acted with vigor and a commitment to, if not total victory over cancer, at least a victory over the grim statistics.

I reminded myself once again that miracles happen. That David was/is a miracle. And that aided and abetted by our faith, intellectual curiosity and physical stamina we could land in the top 10th percentile of this illness. Instead of 3 to 6 months I started thinking in terms of years. Maybe four more years. I wanted to end the walk and get back to the house. I knew that prolonging his life wasn't going to be a matter of positive thinking but a combination of the above and now there was work to do because in the grand scheme of things there was precious time left.