In the immortal words of Chief McCroskey: "Looks like I picked the wrong week to quit drinking..."
Sorry. That's a joke. Meant to soften this harsh news.
I received a terrible phone call about two hours ago. My maternal grandmother is in the hospital. The doctors say she has cancer. This is coming completely out of nowhere.
My grandfather has had cancer for years, the treatable kind. He's been enduring another round of chemotherapy even now. This is apparently not that kind of cancer. This is aggressive lymphoma, a swift and merciless killer.
Both of these people are in their 90s, and they've both been almost supernaturally healthy their entire lives. They've been married for 62 years. They are, in fact, the two most beautiful people I know. By midsummer, they may both be gone. My grandmother almost definitely will be gone.
I just wanted you all to know that I'm not panicking. Death does not frighten me. I have, however, just now crossed-off 3 months of calendar items and mentally replaced that space with a single, large question mark.
If you can imagine me sitting in front of a control panel representing my life, you would see me slowly putting down the telephone and calmly flipping most of these switches to the "Off" position. I'm sorry if this temporarily leaves you in the dark. I'm turning my mind over to auto-pilot. All other resources are being diverted toward plotting a course through this new development.
See you tomorrow. Good night, and good luck.