Family Trip, not Wally World

Do you remember those first few fall days every year, when you were growing up? When I think of them I can still hear the sounds. I remember late saterday afternoons sitting in the front yard with my Buckley jersey on. A few blocks over somebody was cutting there lawn for the last time that year. If I close my eyes and tried hard enough, I swear I can hear every rotation of that lawnmowers blade. The trees try so hard to hold onto their remaining leaves. Some of the leaves would land on the front lawn and others hit Coventry Road. The wind would easily lap them up against the curb. It had a rhythm.

The sky on those first few days of fall found a new shade of blue. It was the type of blue that wispered bring a jacket out with you. I remember the trees in my neighborhood being so much smaller. I would always look for the highest leaf left in the tree and try and hit it with my football.

It smelled healthy. The air was chrisp on those days. To this day I always inhale deeper in the fall. There were times when you could smell somebody burning the last of their leaf piles. It was well before the time when you stuffed them into an oversized lunchbag. Today happens to be one of those days.

At around 7 am the alarm clock buzzed to life. No need, I was already up. I'm not sleeping well at all. There are two seasons in Chicago...construction and winter, and it isn't snowing yet. I was scared to death I would be late so I got a move on. I'm out of the shower by 7:15 and Mike and Mike are on in the backround. They just happen to be talking about Favre.

I don't know what to put on. I feel like a girl trying to get ready for her first date. If this was any sign of how they day was going to go, we could be in for a long one. I heard a great line once on Jonny Carson that sums up the way I feel at this point, "The whole world is a tuxedio and I'm a brown pair of shoes." I go with kackie slacks and a black v-neck sweater.

On the way to my Mom and Dad's house I call Colette. She is as calm as somebody that just found out they invested their life savings with Bernie Madolph. She is all over the place. I hope Mom doesn't do... Mike, I don't want you to do... I hope Dad isn't afraid to ask... I need to make sure... Shit! I'm worn out and it isn't 8am.

I pulled up to their house and keep thinking how quiet it is. Outside of the house it was so calm. Mom was in the downstairs bathroom doing what she does to get ready, and Dad was upstairs finishing up as well. As he came down the stairs he said, "I'm not really sure what to wear." So he went with black v neck sweater and kackies. Then it turned into gameplanning and out the door we went.

As we left I thought inside the house was very calm. Standing by the keypad of the garage I woundered, "Was the storm coming?" We hopped on I90 towards Chicago without anything being said. Ikea went past with only a blue blur. In no time at all we were at Allstate Arena. Still quiet. We zoomed through the tolls without any clogging of the traffic.

"You know what I feel like?" said my Dad. Retorical? Shit. Mad. Sad. All of the above. I gave it a second and thought I sould stick with (a) retorical. "I feel like a fisherman on a beautiful day at sea. Then, out of no where, a black wall of clouds is on the horizon. Turing around isn't and option. So it's time to steer right to the center of the clouds."

This hospital is everything you could have hopped it would be. I found comfort in its architecture. The buildings that comprise this hospital are worthy additions to Chicago's skyline. After some breakfest we headed to Northwesterns oncology departmeny. It was on the very top floor. Was this a good thing for... there best doctors get the best views, or a bad thing...keep the sickest people away from everybody else.

Four things hit me right away as we entered the department. 1) A quick scan of the vast waiting room allowed me to do a unifishal survey in my head. I guessed about 35% of these people look like they are going to beat whatever it is they have. 2) Spouces have cancer too. You can see it in their eyes. 3) My heart brakes for every person there alone. 4) I miss my wife and kids.

This place is so grand they actually give you a buzzer in order to signal you when your ready. Colette and my Dad go over the list of questions like a nerd crams before a test. My Mom would gladly drop a fifty for a cigerette. She calls Pure Joy for the third time just to try and trick her mind. I flip through and old ESPN the Magazine and stew. I'm so fucking mad. I realize that isn't going to do me any good so I try and change my track of thinking. The best I can come up with is, "I bet people in here think I have nice hair."

I can tell Dad is nervous as hell. He went to the bathroom right before we left home and breakfest. Wouldn't you know it, the buzzer go nuts and he's in the john.

The first nurse that met us had an infectious smile. She was a bigger african american lady who stikes me as everybodys favorite aunt. She took us into the room we would spend mabye the most important few hours of my Dad's life. The room was no bigger than my college dorm. It looked like almost every doctors office room you have ever been in. Altough this one had a computer for the doctor and a blood red outlet that grabbed my attention.

The three of us had chairs while my Dad was placed on the butcher paper. He looked stiffer than a goat up there. So I left and returned with another chair for him.

The first real doctor to enter might be Ickabad Crains son. He stands about 6'3" and might weigh 160lbs. He speaks like the new kid at school. Quiet and extreamly resurved. I kept thinking if there is 2 minutes on the clock you don't want him under center. After 10 minutes of questions he left to report to Seama Senghal.

About time! Lets get to the headliner.

15 minutes later confidence walked through the door. Dr. Senghal knows more about blood cancer than I do anything else in the world. I knew that in thiry seconds. She commands an audience. She has IT. She isn't an imposing person by looks. She is a few inches over five feet tall with jet black hair. She might be 55, but I would believe you if you said she was 38. She is an attractive woman and my guess is she has been down playing that her intire professional career. Five minutes in, I'm glad she is my Dad's doctor. She takes us through every in and out of my dad's cancer and treatment options. Stressing that he doesn't allow any treatment to drop off the table. This conversation makes it very clear she wants him to have the stem cell transplant not once but twice. Back to Back.

Part 2 on Thursday