Apparently

Dad stretched the truth a little the other day when he told me he was fine. To review: He was talking about the arrangements he'd made for Mom after his death. I asked if he had any reason to be concerned. He said no. He said he was in better health now than 10 years ago. He said he was merely facing statistical realities.

He left out a few things.

Yesterday I walked into Mom and Dad's house and found Dad in bed, his head wrapped in huge bandages. He looked like he'd wandered out of one of the hospital scenes in Gone with the Wind. Scary. Hilarious. Confusing.

It turns out Dad has skin cancer. A few weeks ago, a doctor removed a couple small growths from his forehead. The pathology reports indicated cancer so he returned yesterday for a fairly extensive excision. They think they got it all. According to the doctor, the type of cancer Dad has is common and treatable.

Dad drove himself to and from the surgery. He didn't want anyone to worry.

It was about lunch time when I stopped in over there. Mom asked me to stay for lunch and of course I did. She made one of Dad's favorite lunches. In the early afternoon she called and asked me to come over for dinner. She was making salmon, another of Dad's favorite foods. I couldn't resist, and I'm so glad I went. I'll remember this exchange the rest of my life.

Dad: Thank you, Honey. That was a wonderful dinner. You should have planned to come for dinner all along, Jerri. I have an owie. You knew Mom would make something special.

Me: She does baby you when you're sick or hurt.

Dad: Not too much. You see I didn't get any dessert. I'm going to make me a chocolate sundae. Anyone else want one?

Mom: Oh, Honey. I'm sorry. Would you like me to make you some of the World's Best Hot Fudge Sauce?

Dad: No, that's okay. You can do it later. I'll still have cancer tomorrow.