The first time I went to radiation with my Dad was the most normal experience of my Dad having cancer since my Dad was diagnosed with cancer. After my Dad went into treatment, another man waiting for radiation told me it was his second of forty-one treatments.

Eight hours I sat in the hospital waiting room beside Mom and Aunt Terri, as if we were waiting to be seated in a restaurant– longing for certainty. Except our attempted conversation was undeniably masked by racing thoughts, shaking legs, and metaphorical nail biting. Right before Dad went into procedure, he continued to put laughter on our table, making sure we said “goodbye to his right lobe.”