Dan, you have cancer.

As strange as it might seem my life was full of the very things need for me to face the news delivered to me on December 28, 2018 and again in a more lethal dose on January 7, 2019. I was unaware of it and the particulars in those moments but in retrospect I am able to see the providential hand of God on many things in my life leading up to that time. The preparation He unwittingly had me go through was foresightful and exactly what I needed.

The otolaryngologist my family doctor sent me to see, biopsied a lump, soon to change names to tumor, on my right jaw on December 21. When he entered the patient room on the 28^th where Ann and I were waiting, we experienced the same nonverbal communication that the stocking-capped father did in Clement Moore’s “A Visit from Saint Nicolas”. “A wink of his eye and a twist of his head; soon gave to know I had nothing to dread”. In this case there was no wink, no head twisting, just a friendly smile and some sobering words about the result of the biopsy. You have cancer. “Under the microscope (this way of explaining things is used to absolve any humans from blame of the findings) the cells harvested from your lump are seen as small-cell squamous cell carcinoma”. Say it in English doc, say it in English. My onboard Google translate heard, “You got cancer Dan and it ain’t good”!

The merry-go-round I was now on seemed to momentarily spin out of control. The golden ring not only passed my thoughts at the speed of light, it also seemed to be getting further away from my reach.  “Dear Jesus, take control!” Everything stopped. I could now focus on what the doctor was telling us. He did a much more thorough exam going down my throat, up my nasal passages, into my sinuses. I became thankful that he was an otolaryngologist and not a proctologist. I had just had a colonoscopy on December 7^th, how appropriate is that, and am glad another one was not in order.

The doctor found nothing, nothing at all. The only manifestation of squamous cell carcinoma was in the tumor on my jaw. This is good. That is what the doctor said. That is how I felt.  It was sometime immediately after my surrendering the situation to Jesus that a peace, a peace that passes all understanding came over me. I decided right then and there to set a course of action. I could not control if I did or did not have cancer but I sure could control how I manage my life having cancer.

I decided to never hide the truth from anyone. If someone asked how I was feeling, I am going to tell you. Feeling bad, you will know. Feeling good, you will know. Don’t want to be bothered right now, I’ll tell you that too. I adopted this attitude because I need to be strong not weak. I need prayer and lots of it. My experiences have shown me that if someone is praying for you it is always helpful and more meaningful to them if they know the specifics of the need.

Before leaving the office that Friday my otolaryngologist discussed the next steps we needed to take. He offered several ways to proceed.  To this time in our lives Ann and I had only ever dealt with pediatricians, cardiologists and nursing homes. We are experts in all three. God has chosen me, my health and our immediate future to broaden our horizons and earn additional medical school credits in oncology. The doctor never flinched when I told him I could not make a choice. I told him I was putting my faith in him and God to be sent to where I needed to be to begin the battle of our lives. After some more conversation and reckoning on his part, he set up an appointment with the practice of Andrews and Patel which happened to be only minutes from our home. The hand of God at work once again.