The first day was the hardest so far. I have no doubts that there will be other difficult days in the future, but somehow that initial news that you have melanoma has to rank as one of the hardest.
The hardest part for me was not hearing the news, it was telling Mary. Mary and I have been married for 34 years. We aren’t just husband and wife, we are best friends, partners in ministry, and constant companions. We actually like each other! I would rather be with her than with anyone else. So telling her was difficult.
I received the phone call around 10 AM and had all day to think about it before Mary came home from work. I wanted to say it in a way that would be easy for her. Not just blurt it out but sort of ease her into it. I couldn’t. She wasn’t in the door two minutes before I told her.
It was a hard evening. We held each other. We cried. Then we held each other again and cried again. I can only remember one day of my life that was more difficult. I don’t usually cry, but I did. The strange part is that I wasn’t feeling sorry for myself - I wasn’t crying for me. I cried for Mary. If my situation turns out to be serious, like my mother’s, there are going to be difficult days for her down the road. I would do anything to spare her those days but I can’t think of anyone else that I want to be with me during those days.
As a pastor I’ve had to handle a lot of bad news. Normally it was for other people. I’ve had to identify bodies that were hardly recognizable. I’ve had to break the news of death to families. I’ve had to comfort families as they grieved. I sort of prided myself on how I handled difficult situations. It was different this time. I learned some new things about handling bad news.
