“I don’t have cancer.”

Relief washed over me like a tidal wave when my dad said those words to me last night.

For the past few months my dad has had some issues and has been submitting to a plethora of medical tests. Today he has a CT scan and tomorrow he has another scan, but the blood test came back normal yesterday, and when he called to tell me the good news it felt like a 1,000-pound weight was lifted off my shoulders.

I’ve been so blessed that my parents have been healthy. My 81-year-old dad and 77-year-old mom don’t have any serious health issues yet—some high blood pressure here, a little arthritis there, but nothing serious or debilitating.

They’re at that age, though, were I feel like I’m holding my breath, afraid to exhale just in case.

My parents live in an active senior community that’s more high school seniors than senior living. Their days are filled with Fox News (don’t even get me started on this one, but what is it with seniors and Fox News?) golf, card games, parties and clubs. My dad still goes to the gym five times a week. They spend their time with friends, and they still travel quite extensively.  I’m convinced the activity is what keeps them sharp and healthy.

Another day in paradise

But a week doesn’t go by when I don’t hear about who in their dwindling circle of friends has died or who has cancer or who can’t live alone anymore and has to move into assisted living—or worse: move in with their kids (apparently, that’s a fate worse than death). They like to talk about it—they probably need to talk about it—but I hate it. I feel like plugging my fingers in my ears and chanting “La La La La La” like a child. I don’t like to give voice to the idea that they may succumb to the same fate. My worst fear is that they’ll have to fight a prolonged battle—something neither of them wants.

I’m not in denial about my parents getting sick or passing away. In fact, Bill and I have talked about it because he lost both of his parents a couple of years ago, but I try not to dwell on it. If I did, I’d jump to the worst conclusions every time they had an ache or a pain. My mom has outlived eight out of her 10 brothers and sisters and her parents both passed away in their early 60s, so she’s doing pretty damn good. Her surviving sister has been battling health issues her whole life whereas my mom’s worse problem is needing some new teeth. My dad’s dad passed away in his 70s but his mom lived to be 86—so the gene pool isn’t too bad on that side. Bit I still keep my fingers and toes crossed.

As much as they drive me nuts, I try to talk to them every day. I probably don’t get out there to see them enough though—there is a part of me that expects them to be around forever. And really if they weren’t, I wouldn’t know who I was if my mom wasn’t nagging me about something!

But they’re at that age. And I’m really not prepared. But I guess we never are.

Please keep my dad in your thoughts and prayers this week.

If you're new here, you may want to subscribe to my RSS feed. Thanks for visiting!