The doctor took one look at the x-ray, turned the nurse, and ordered, “Get me Dr. Sheldon. Tell him it’s urgent.”

The nurse hurried out the door, leaving the doctor and the patient alone.

“Wha - wha - what’s going on? Who who who’s Dr. Sheldon? What’s the matter? Why is it urgent?” The man had come in with back pain. The patient looked at the black and white photograph clipped to the clipboard with light emitting from it. The man couldn’t make heads or tails of the x-ray.

“You see this,” the doctor pointed to a black spot on the x-ray. The man could see the spot. He didn’t know what it was. It looked all of the other black and white and grey blurs. About the only thing the man could recognize were white marks that looked like ribs.

“The black dot? Yeah, I see it. What is it?”

“That is a tumor. It is pressing on your spinal cord. The spinal cord is connected to all of your nerves, but it also has nerves of its own. This tumor is pushing on the nerves. That is why you are having back problems.”

The man suddenly felt dizzy.

“A tumor? So that means…”

“It means you have cancer. We don’t know what type of cancer, yet, but we will do some tests to determine what type. Once we know the kind of cancer we’re dealing with, that means we can know how to fight it.”

“So who’s Dr. Sheldon? And why did you say it was urgent?”

“Dr. Sheldon is the best pathologists in the area. She will be the one to tell us what kind of cancer you have.”

“Why is it urgent?”

“You want to identify this as quickly as possible so we can get treatment as quickly as possible.”

“I don’t believe you. What are you not telling me?”

“Well, I’m not telling you how long you’ve cancer and I’m not telling you what type of cancer it is. I’m not telling you these things because I don’t know those answers. That’s why we’re calling Dr. Sheldon.”

The diagnosis was not great. The cancer had been festering and growing for a couple of months, maybe as many as six months. The prognosis was grim.

Here’s the thing about chemotherapy, it kills cancer cells, yes, but it also kills healthy cells. That is why cancer patients loose their hair, the chemotherapy kills those cells. The medicine makes you sick, which is quite the mind game to play on someone who is dealing with this life threatening situation.

But the initial fear, the initial confusion? All of that went away.

The chemotherapy did take away the strength to all far, so the man received a “handicap” card for parking. He also had to take the elevator because he couldn’t make one flight of stairs without loosing his breathe.

The cancer (and the treatment) took so much away from the man, but it also gave him something he lacked prior to the diagnosis: perspective.

Every morning became an opportunity to appreciate the sunrise one more time.

Every full parking lot meant an opportunity to walk.

Every staircase meant an opportunity to climb.

Once he beat the cancer - and he did beat the cancer - that perspective stayed with him.

That man is me.