I slept like crap last night and no, it wasn't just because I helped the Wine Fairy do her bidding, although I'm sure it was more than likely part of the problem. As I posted before, my dad had his second biopsy scheduled for today and the possibility of finally identifying his cancer was overwhelming. The anxiety and worry I felt kept me occupied and awake until the wee hours of the morning.

When I finally did get to sleep, the morning arrived far too soon and Hubby and Gun-Gun were yelling at me to "wakeded up, Momma!" I quickly showered and got dressed; keeping in mind what the potential outcomes of the appointment could be, based on an additional CT scan. If the tumors had grown then the biopsy would be conducted and the cancer hopefully identified; if nothing changed, then the biopsy would be cancelled and other ideas would be explored (such as a bad infection causing severe inflammation). I knew it was going to be the longest 20 minute ride of my life.

I called my mom on the way, and she informed me that they had gotten my dad in early for the scan - which I thought was practically a miracle since nothing had gone our way so far. When we finally arrived at the hospital, my mom found us in the waiting room. She looked like she had been crying and she told me that they were going ahead with the biopsy. I was expecting this but I still felt crushed. I had hoped and prayed that those damn tumors had somehow miraculously disappeared but hearing they hadn't was still such a letdown. I gave my mom a hug and a pat on the back, sweet talking her with the promise of cafeteria coffee and stale donuts. We partook amongst the coffee and had a nice family chat awaiting my dad's test.

My mom stumbled across my dad being wheeled out of the operating room, after a long one and a half hours. He looked great and was talkative with the nurse who was wheeling him back to recovery. We followed them back to the room and spoke briefly with the nurse who had been present during the procedure. She was extremely friendly and sympathetic to our plight. She summed the success of the procedure up in a sentence:

We tried as hard as we could to prove you had cancer, but we just couldn't do it today.

The doctor had skillfully guided needles into the largest of the tumors, shaped ironically like a dumb bell. He removed two sections and forwarded them to pathology who had then demanded several more, as they were only seeing fibrous tissue in the samples being sent up. A total of five samples were submitted and none of them came back as obviously being cancerous. The pathologist will continue to hack up and dissect the samples, looking for any clues as to their origin or potential for cancer.

To top it all off, the tumors had not grown and if anything had possibly shrunk down just a little. The biopsy had still been conducted because they were suspicious enough to warrant some digging.

I didn't know whether or not to laugh or cry. Last week, he'd been told he was in Stage 4 of a fast-moving cancer and we could seek treatment, but the outcome would be the same. This week, he's being told he might not even have cancer and that they'd more than likely watch him and re-scan in six months. Six months! He had been given some of his future back!

Dad tends to be the pessimist of the family and quickly reminded me to not get my hopes up because the pathologist might still find something lurking in the samples. Plus, we still don't know what he has and we can't quite completely dismiss the previously named elephant in the closet. Could his secret illness be worse than cancer? If it's an infection that's been simmering this long, what sort of damage has it done? The results today have led to so many more questions. Again, we'll have to hurry up and wait.

We're all living on a high right now and I'm allowing myself to enjoy it. I've explained to my dad that we've had nothing but six weeks of bad news; we deserve to have at last two days of positivity before the inevitable bout of more frustration hits. We will be floating on cotton candy clouds and admiring the gumdrops and butterflies floating by because we deserve a few days of happiness. My dad deserves this much.

It was refreshing to have both doctors and nurses that were friendly and accommodating to both my dad and our family. It has slowly renewed some of my faith in our medical system - at least in the area of the bedside manner.