I wrote this a few months ago for the Prostate Cancer Support Group Facebook page. It was inspired by Mark Bradford’s blog post The Elephant in the Waiting Room. It is told from my perspective, but I meant it more to be for everyone that has ever had to wait for news from a doctor.
Dear God,
Yep, it’s me again, sitting in my usual spot, waiting to go in to see the doc. Sorry that I only talk to you when I am in this type of situation, but here I am, waiting for results again.
Actually, God, we have a little more time today. The receptionist told me the doc is running late, so we have a couple more minutes to cover a few more subjects.
First off, and I know we’ve covered this before, but why me? I know you probably get asked that question a lot, and by people that have it a lot worse than I do, but it seems weird that I got this. I eat right, I exercise, I don’t smoke, I go to church, and I try to be a nice guy.
I know, I know, I haven’t been perfect. I’ve made some huge mistakes. I’ve failed many times as a person, as a husband, and as a father. Some might call it karma that I’m here.
I consider myself a religious person. I went to church every Sunday when I was a kid, morning and night, with Sunday school and Wednesday night catechism thrown in for good measure. I never saw anything in the Bible about karma. I can run the Bible category on Jeopardy, but I don’t remember seeing anything in there about why some people get sick and why some people don’t.
And if karma is a thing, why didn’t Hitler get cancer? Or Stalin? Or Rosie O’Donnell? Just kidding.
Look, God, we both know why I’m praying to you right now.
I’m scared.
I’m not really scared of dying. Well, maybe a little. But what I’m really scared of is missing out on life.
I want to be there when my kids get married. I want to be there when my grandkids are born. I want to be there for their first dance recital or their first little league game.
I want to go to Europe with my wife.
I want to climb a 14er in Colorado.
I want more sunsets, I want more sunrises, I want more rainy days and snowstorms. I want more cold, clear, starry nights.
In short, I want more life.
I just heard the nurse call my name, so I have to wrap this up. So, God, please let the numbers be good. Let the tests be negative. Please, please, please God.
Let me live.
Amen
Fishrocks 