See, a couple of weeks ago, my mother called me and said she had an appointment with an oncologist.
Now there's a word to strike fear into a daughter's heart. My grandmother a"h - her mother - died of liver cancer after surviving breast cancer.
It goes like this - my stepfather is an avid bowler. A few months ago, he convinced my mother to do some bowling herself. She strained a muscle in her arm and has been having physical therapy since then. As part of the treatment, they gave her an x-ray and saw something - they weren't sure what - on one of her arm bones. Call the oncologist. And not just any oncologist - he's both an oncologist *and* an orthopedist.
She was supposed to see him Monday, but he was ill and kept pushing it off until today. And he looked at her arm and said that it was just something she was probably born with - like a birthmark but on bone. He'd seen these things before. Nothing to worry about at all.
She said the doctor looked very happy about this, too. I'm not surprised - oncologists see mostly bad news, so to be able to have good news must have been wonderful for him.