Heartbroken

Do you remember the first time that you felt heartbroken?

I think, for me, that it was when I asked Richard (Something) to Girl's Choice my freshman year.  At first he said yes; I was elated!  Then about a week or so later he came back and said he didn't want to go. 

Heartbroken.

This past Sunday, J and I took the kids to my mother-in-law's house.  We were looking for things to do, and her retirement village has an awesome pool where every Sunday they grill hot dogs.  It got even better as N (mother-in-law) let us know that she asked J's sister and her two boys to join us.  My kids love to play with their cousins every chance they get, and it turned out to be a wonderfully relaxing day.

While we were there, N and I sat under an umbrella and had some good conversation.  She has been UBBER supportive of us through these past two years; I don't know what we would have done without her.  Anyway, she was telling me that she hasn't been feeling good and had a series of doctor's appointments this week.  On Monday she was going in for an ultrasound and bloodwork, and then would meet with her doctor a few hours later.  Her doctor was thinking from her symptoms that it was kidney stones, and he wanted to see the location of them before they decided on treatment.  She called me and left a message on Monday night; it wasn't kidney stones, and they weren't sure what it was, so they were sending her for more tests today.  I breathed a sigh of relief and hoped that it was something much easier than what they originally thought.

It's not.

Tonight, as I was making hot dogs and cheesy broccoli for the kid's dinner, J's sister called.  I knew it was bad because he took the phone and went out to the back porch.  For those in the Chicagoland area, you know today is not a day to voluntarily go into this oppressive heat.  After the kids were all settled, I went out to see what was up.  I could tell by the look and my love's face that it wasn't good.  I stood silent and waited for him to finish the call. 

"It's pancreatic cancer," J said, trying hard to be strong.  His eyes looked like could burst into tears, and as a hugged him it was almost as if I could feel his sadness seeping out through his chest.

"Dad is hysterical.  They are doing more tests tomorrow to see how far it has spread and if surgery is an option."

I stood there, hands on my hips, imitating his fake strength.  My head started spinning.  I know that our parents are all in their 60's and these sort of things start happening now, but I am just not ready.

J and I chatted a little more, agreeing that we were not going to say anything to the kids until absolutely necessary, rearranging schedules for Friday since we are pretty sure that N will not be coming to watch the kids, and just trying to get our bearings.  We hugged again, and came inside.

I immediately went to my computer and started to research, then quickly shut the computer as there was nothing good to read.  It's always malignant.  It has a low survival rate.  It's one of the top 8 cancer-killers in the US.

Heartbroken.  Absolutely heartbroken.