The doctor’s call came while my wife and I were shopping in a Walmart in Virginia on Black Friday. The phone rang several times before my wife decided to take it. I watched as she walked over to a quiet spot, listened, shook her head several times and hung up.
“I knew I shouldn’t have taken that call,” my wife said, looking a little wistful and trying to force a smile. “It’s cancer, but the doctor wasn’t rushing me back to Connecticut. Of course, there will be surgery, but the doctor is setting up an oncology appointment for early December. Oh well. I’ve survived a brain aneurysm and a mild heart attack. Why not throw this at me to deal with?”