June Gloom

In Southern California, near the Pacific coast, we have a term “June Gloom” that refers to a foggy weather condition. The months of May (which we call May Grey) and June often have low clouds and fog in the mornings. It mostly “burns off” by noon, but sometimes it last later into the day. It is just part of living in a coastal region.

June 25, 2024—I was quickly learning a new meaning for June Gloom. And like the mornings here in the fog, I could not see very far ahead with the initial diagnosis I was getting from the Oncologist and Surgeon. Living through a number of California earthquakes didn’t prepare me for the way I was being shaken and rattled by my introduction to cancer.

I had a video conference with the Oncologist. I was hyper tuned to his voice, his body language, and his posture. His web camera must have been by his keyboard because he stared down at me on my computer screen. That’s not a good “net-side” manner. His voice and posture also were very gloomy even before he said the first word. He didn’t have a lot to say, just how advanced my cancer was, how rare and aggressive it was, and how the outlook was not good. OK, that felt like a large truck just ran over me, I was stunned and it was my turn to talk… All I could think of was to ask what Stage I was at. He said last week he would have said 3A, but today I was at Stage 3B. OK, I’ll stop asking that question, I seem to be advancing at light speed.

We discussed the biopsy that was quickly being scheduled for next week, and our video call ended. And I waited…more waiting, for the biopsy.