"You have Stage 4, metastatic cancer."

This is the news delivered to my family two weeks ago today. I got the call at work, right after lunch. A call from my mom so hysterical she can't speak. I don't know what's wrong. She is just screaming, and eventually inhales enough air to say "HE'S GOT CANCER...EVERYWHERE." She's in a public place when she gets the news and I hear a woman in the background asking her "Ma'am, are you okay?" The answer to that, is no, we are not okay.

I feel faint and my heart starts to beat weird. Physically sick to my stomach. I can't go back to my desk. I don't know where to go. I run to the bathroom and stay. And stay. And then drive home.

Diagnosis: Stage 4 Renal Cell Carcinoma of the right kidney that has metastasized to his other kidney, both lungs, brain and trachea. The PET scan today will tell us if it has spread to his bones. But it won't matter either way. There's no treatment available. "Palliative treatment only." Prognosis: 2 months. He's only 63 years old.

I make a call to the Mayo Clinic; a plea for help. A second opinion. Hope. Anything. Their review yields the same outcome.

He had no symptoms, no warning. No signs of trouble until two days before the diagnosis. A healthy person with no health issues. We never suspected that kind of news.

A family in mourning. Grief strucken. Disbelief. Tears to the point of dehydration headaches. No sleep. Nightmares. Praying for a miracle, but would settle for more time. Lots of I Love Yous. Sleeping pills and anti-anxiety medication prescriptions. Funeral arrangements.

Please pray for my family.