How Do We Do This?

I have been distracted for several days now. My sister called me in tears the other night and said the word you never want to hear: cancer. It wasn’t her, if you are wondering. I would have, too. It wasn’t even my brother-in-law, the one connected to the most vile word in any language. It was her son.

Her son told her that he may have stage one stomach cancer.

Monster

Some of you are Googling it right now. Stage one isn’t the worst, obviously, and it is usually easy to treat. It even has one of the best survival rates. But there are still so many questions. And it has my mind completely lost in good and morbid thoughts.

Her call came on Friday night. She was still reeling from the shock, no surprise there, but now the hard part began: waiting for the toxicology results from the biopsy. This would not happen until Wednesday. How is it fair for a doctor to give you this word before it is conclusive?

Cruel Processes

Why can’t the medical field agree that until those very tests confirm a neoplasm and specify its type, they should simply say there is something we want to look into and leave it there? We have lost family members to cancer, and the very thought triggers flashbacks and fear after those experiences. I worked in the medical field for 25 years and still take issue with this approach. This wasn’t the only concern, though.

My nephew had not said anything to his parents, and they were told by someone who is completely self-centered and narcissistic; it was a cruelty I can’t fathom.

They had to go to their son and tell him what they’d been told, and by whom. And the cat came screeching out of the bag, and this ball started rolling down the hill.

Questions Compounding

So now they knew; the panic, fear, and recent memories of losing my dad were flooding my sister’s mind again. It wrecked them both. Questions were popping up everywhere for all of us.

How did he find out? Why didn’t he tell them he thought something was off? How did he even go through the procedure to take a sample without them knowing? It’s a mess. My nephew had hidden what was happening from them because my dad had recently passed from cancer, and he knew his mom would be distraught. He is right. She is, and he wanted to avoid it until he had to deal with the results once he knew all the details. Was this the right move? I don’t know the answer.

Wednesday came, and we waited. And waited. And waited. It really pisses me off when you are waiting to hear something like this; they wait until the very last minute to call you. What kind of cruelty is this? The doctors already know you are on a bed of nails, waiting for days to hear something because it takes so damned long to get the results, and then they make you wait even longer. Then they beat you while you are down again.

The call came in at 5 p.m. You know what they told him? Nothing. The only thing he got from the call was, “We made an appointment for you next Wednesday. We will see you then.” WTF!

No Answers: More Waiting

There was no “it was not cancer” or “it was but…” Nothing. Not one word. Another cruelty point for the medical field. Do they not know what everyone is going through? Do they not care what everyone is holding their breath to hear? Is this what they would want to experience for themselves? This has to be fixed because it’s inhumane.

More questions.

Now the mind starts to run through scenarios. It has an uncanny way of disrupting every other part of life.

Because they were not told by their son, my sister has to wonder whether they would have ever been told at all, until they had no other choice but to come out. The fact that the information was withheld raised questions about whether they were told every detail about this condition and what their son had been doing the whole time. How long he knew was a question needing answers.

But serious questions also remain about the truth of his condition. Is it worse than he is letting on? Is it more serious than he intimated? Is it not as bad? These questions create more questions and concern.

When the doctor called with the results, neither parent heard it. What news did they actually give their son? There was still a possibility he was not sharing everything with them to spare her again. This makes me ill and scared for her beyond belief. The unknown is the cruelest of all adversaries.

I sat here wondering how we do this, how we deal with it all. I know the answer. We just do. But the realization does not help.

Thoughts in the Dark

I don’t know how I will get her through the days, months, and whatever this process takes. I don’t even know what the process is.

I sat here at night and every night and day after, thinking about my only son. Tears flood my eyes at the mere mention of him going through something like this. This is my sister’s every waking moment.

I won’t speak to the worst-case scenario. I just can’t imagine such a thing in a young man’s life. This horrible reality, and the two little daughters he is raising. What of them? They are both under 6 years old. How do we all help them through this with their daddy, no matter the outcome? Either way, it will be a rough road, I assume.

There are far too many hows in this equation and far too few answers. All of our hearts are breaking into a million fractals of light, and we have several more days of this until something is known for sure.

So What Now?

My sister will go with her son to get the results. She has to so she can hear it directly and separate fantasy from reality. Then we deal with reality and take it as it comes. For me, the question still looms. How do we do this?

My heart hurts. It bleeds tears and sorrow. My spirit screams in rage and anger at how little power we have over this villain. My mind is torn between opposite ends of the emotional spectrum, and I can’t calm either side. The only thing I know for certain is, “I don’t know anything; it seems.”

How do I do this with her?

(Published by Pen With Paper on Medium, 2026)

If you enjoyed this story, why not read another?

Catch me on Patreon, Substack, Beehiiv, Medium, Vocal, Wattpad, or WordPress. Dealer’s choice! Check me out on Social Media too via Linktree or my website, Ink and Echo.

I usually add a read-next story. But that seems inappropriate today. Don’t read next. Go tell your loved one you love them, put down the phone, and spend some time with them. We are never assured of how much of that we have with anyone.

How Do We Do This? ©2026 Spilled Ink. All rights reserved.