Forget caller ID, tell me nature of call

My Twitter struck a 'me, too' nerve today. Seems I am not the only one interested in the nature of the call more then who is calling.

Now since Twitter limits your space, I merely explained that a color siginal about the news to be conveyed would help. Blue flashing would be a warning, red for danger and green for a 'good' call.

I was reacting to my brother's call. First, he asked me to play soccer, knowing I never had and certainly can't right now. But then the real reason for the call slips out: My dad is back in the hospital. Of course, it was the family tradition: Don't tell anyone until the procedure is done.

We all knew something was up. Although my father is a man of few words, we had heard even fewer lately. Yes, a tumor was back, a surgeon sliced it out, and now we wait. Was that enough? Will chemo help? Is anything else wanted? Or needed? Or capable of sending hope?

We wait, trying hard to be supportive, sending prayers, hugs and wishes. And while the battle continues, somehow I must find a way to walk through my own pain and continue as if nothing so earth-shattering is affecting me.

I try to finish the final details of a launch, figure out ways to make sure the team of six know enough to build their own way and still carry the day-to-day tasks of the job, of getting Medicare, MedI-Cal and Social Security on the same numbers for my mom and stepdad, and doing what I commited to do before my life unraveled.

I have either found the world's best diet or words for a great country song with the latest chapters of my life.

I know I would like to stop answering the phone now - as if that would stop the avalanche of unwelcomed opportunities.



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