I have been taking my stepfather to all of his cancer appointments. I was there the day he heard the evil word Cancer. I watched as my parents fell into each other and held each other up as their knees collapsed. It was heart wrenching. The entire process has been exhausting. He has a long hard road ahead of him, but the prognosis looks good.
Out of all of this though, I am realizing another one of my gifts. I am a natural cheerleader. I listen to the must-give worst case scenarios each doctor gives right before a procedure. It’s terrifying and overwhelming. They share the worst possible case of what could go wrong. I watch as my stepdad looks like he could go into a panic attack at any second. He looks lost and overwhelmed. Their words are shocking and the visual picture they paint is not a pretty one.
I quickly find myself asking for the best case scenario. I lay out time frames and ask for tangible results. Each time the doctors look at me like I must be an alien. Hope. Hope is what I’m after. I want to know what to expect so we know what we have to trudge through to get to the other side. I want to know about their best case scenario. I want to hear the stories of inspiration. Maybe I need to be a cheerleader of hope. Is that a job? I think I’ll look into it.