I had another surprisingly pleasant day at work. I got my motion filed before noon. I had a lot of laughs thanks to some Photoshop e-mail trickery. I chowed on some yummy Cuban food at El Colmao with my co-workers. I laughed some more at happy hour.
I was ready to blog about all of this when I got home, but I checked my personal e-mail first and read a message from my dad. During a routine medical check-up, some numbers came up abnormally high. He saw his urologist yesterday, who suggested a biopsy to determine whether it was prostate cancer.
I called my dad, and it took everything in me not to sob. I know it could very well be nothing -- and I hope it is -- but even the possibility of cancer got me teary-eyed. At one point during our call, my dad asked if I was still there. I was. I just couldn't speak because I was crying as quietly as I could, dabbing my eyes with tissue, and trying not to sniffle. I didn't want him to know I was crying, so I talked to him some more in my best non-crying voice. I think I pulled it off.
But now the tears are rolling down my cheeks, as I sit here alone typing. Mr. Monkey is on a plane to Denver. His mother died of cancer in 1999.
My brother and I are having lunch with my dad tomorrow.