I’m sure I’m the millionth blogger to title a blog post like that. But sometimes I can’t be as original as I pretend to be in my mirror.
When I got the missed call and follow-up text from my mom a few Saturdays ago (“I NEED TO TALK TO YOU”), I thought I knew what it was about. I didn’t want to call her back, because I wanted everything to be okay for a few more minutes. A dear family friend, my Auntie G, had gone into the hospital that day for emergency brain surgery. You know it’s no good when an MRI makes the doctor say: “Let’ s cut your brain open tomorrow.” But because we are ethnically German Serbs, we are orderly in our responses to things. I beckoned my husband back from his errand to toddler-watch, and I called my mom.
It wasn’t my aunt, but my dad. While he was circling the drain in one hospital, Auntie was across town in another. Her story involves surgery, a transfer to a Chicago hospital that was not worth anyone’s time, and lots of questions and decisions. The eventual diagnosis was Hemangiopericytoma, a super-rare cancer. Leave it to her to get some special cancer.
Today she undergoes surgery again, to see if they can remove more of the tumor. The surgeon is, I’m told, “young and cute,” and he studies this type of cancer. Auntie G feels she’s in great hands, and she is determined to be awesome today. She’s pretty dang awesome every day. I know you’ve already been sending lots of wishes for The Father. And he’s home, making his daily omelette du fromage. So if you’ve got more prayers and positivity in you, please send ’em out today to Auntie and her family.