It's Just A Word. Right?

People have always told me about someone they love getting diagnosed with Cancer and each time they do I always wondered what it would feel like to hear that phrase, "I'm sorry, but you have Cancer." The more I would think about it, the more I decided that I would just look at Cancer as a word. I would strip it of it's scary, ominous connotations. Then, it would just become a six letter, two syllable word. Just like pencil. I would look at it as a sickness, but not a deadly one. Just a pesky one like the common cold. It seemed like a good plan, and it probably would have worked if I had been told the I had cancer. What I had been told was worse.

*****

June 22, 2013.
I had spent the last few days visiting my Dad in the hospital while they tried to figure out what was wrong with him. He was initially admitted after answering a few questions at his doctors office and being told to immediately check into the hospital. They had found that his kidney's were failing, but didn't know why. It seemed like a million tests had been ran with no answers. That day my sister was back to town and the whole family would finally be together. Kobe and I hung out in the room and at some point Taylor showed up. Mom had stuck a sign on the door saying Dad was sleeping and to please let him rest. We just wanted some alone time. Earlier, I exaggerated and said they had ran a million tests but I think it's not too far of a stretch to say that Dad had a million visitors over the last few days. We enjoyed the alone time for a little bit but it didn't last too long. Mom and Dad gave each other this look and turned and looked at us with purpose in their eyes. I knew they had found whatever was wrong with Dad. Honestly, I can't tell you anything they said other then the C word. Hearing that my Dad had this strange "Multiple Myeloma" wasn't something I could strip down and turn into meaningless syllables. It sounded so official. Mulitple Myeloma. I hated it. I loathed it's name. I wanted it to die, and not take my Dad with it.
Cancer had honestly never crossed my mind as an option. To me, my Dad was invincible. He was a fighter. Literally. At the age of 50 he was training in Jiu Jitsu and had taught Karate and self defense for most of my life. He ran. He worked out. He didn't follow a strict diet, but he didn't have to. My Father was the perfect picture of health. I just thought it would be something small that had turned into a huge nuisance only because it had gone unnoticed for so long. He'd take a couple pills, spend a few more days in the hospital and go back to fighting and training and relief would come for him and our whole family. Instead, we got Cancer. M. F-ing cancer.