I didn’t go to the hospital in Gainesville because it’s two and a half hours away, and I have two papers due and two finals next week. I figured I’d stay home and get some work done. I might have guessed that what I’d really be doing is staying home and crying and worrying and pacing around the house aimlessly. And I had something else I was going to write about when I opened this, but I can’t remember what it was. Story of my day. My brain is only working in little short bursts.

Maggie and Karen and I divided up Mom’s jewelry yesterday. It sounds creepier than it was. We all sat on the bed with a big pile of plastic bags of labelled jewelry and Mom lay on the bed next to us, telling us stories of what everything was and where it came from, and we systematically picked the things we liked or cared about. I wound up with all the crosses, no surprise, so I can now wear entirely misleading religious jewelry to my heart’s content. I hung up one of the crosses — a stained glass one that my grandmother made — on my wall and maybe I’ll paint my bedroom to match it. It’s made of circles of color, the vertical leg starting at yellow at the top and descending through shades of red and the horizontal bar in shades of light blue. If I knew where a working camera was, I’d post a picture.

Later, Henry and Maddie and Caroline and Zelda played in the pool. I wished for a video camera then, a way to capture the ages — the bickering, the playing, the splashing, the way they explored the edges and tried out the jacuzzi/hot tub/cold tub. Maddie is still too small to have her feet touch the ground, but she’s a very capable swimmer. She spent the most time in the tub, probably because in there she could play without the work of keeping herself afloat. She also spent the most time throwing the ball for Zelda. And she liked jumping in the pool, in dozens of different jump styles. The banana — spread your legs wide and make a split. The macaroni — flop in like a noodle. I suspect she and Henry would have found a style for any random noun — or maybe even verb — that Maggie or I gave them.

You imagine that there’ll be a moment of shock, a pause where your brain tries to make sense of what just happened. But I heard it in his voice, in the sound of the way he said hello, and I was crying before he said the words. Pancreatic cancer that has metastasized to the liver. Pain management.

You imagine the stages, the ending. But I realized while walking the dog that there’ll be no hair loss, no head scarves. That’s chemo. That’s when you have time. That’s when you’re fighting. This…this won’t be that. I don’t know what it will be.

But we spent a somewhat lovely tearful afternoon yesterday sorting jewelry and talking about trips — to England, to St. Thomas, to Hawaii, to New Mexico. That silver and turquoise was from the Grand Canyon, your dad picked it out. That ring was from the little jewelry store in the mall, Dad used to go in and chat with the jeweler, Bob. That cross was a 21st birthday present from your dad. Those pins belonged to your grandmother. So many stories, I’ll never remember them all.

I guess I should go to work. I guess that’s what people do?

I have decided that the phrase “suspicious nodule” is high on my list of life’s least favorite phrases. Obviously, it’s not as bad as “it’s malignant” which has to be one of the worst, but in terms of creating tension and anxiety, it’s probably pretty close.

Chances are, of course, that it will turn out to be nothing serious — so many times medical worries wind up forgotten in a few months. But I spent a lot of time today thinking about tears, because they kept running down my face and falling off my chin. I wasn’t crying in the way I think of crying, no gulping sobs, no struggle to catch my breath, no snot-filled nose embarrassingly dripping. It wasn’t even really weeping. It was just…tears. Overflowing. Steadily. Like a gentle summer rain of crying instead of the thunderstorms and downpours that have been my more typical (albeit rare) cries.

Anyway, my mom will have a CAT scan on Monday and I’ll know more then.