Today Is Another Day Which Means It's Special

I take my Dad to the doctor, today. Dad is 86 years old. Hard for me to believe he got older than 50, but since I would now be older than him, its time for me to face reality. I've always gotten his age incorrect. Always made him younger. Surely, this is my attempt to keep him ageless, to have him stay "my Dad," as I was growing up.
Today I take him to the doctor and we are all nervous about it. Last week he was told he needed to see a specialist; a hemotology oncologist. Dad wasn't told what sort of specialist the doctor was, but he looked him up in the phone book. I'd already checked him out on the internet, and was thankful my parents were technologically challenged. I forgot about the phone book. Mom called to complain that they had to wait an entire week in such misery at what the doctor might say.
Isn't this what so many women go through every day waiting for the results of their mammograms? I can't tell you how many of my friends have told me they had a questionable mammogram and were scheduled for more intense testing. But the tests were scheduled a week or two weeks away. Now, my parents, who have never had such stress in their life - must wait. Not knowing, but conjuring the worse. Like women looking at their breast wondering if their life is about to change forever.
Dad says he won't have chemo treatment, that's how much he's conjured. I must admit, I am prepared for the doctor to talk about running tests for leukemia. But we can't know until we walk into that office this afternoon. We can worry, or conjure, or refuse our nightmares, but in reality, the words will not come until this afternoon.
What a surprise it is to me that I feel as calm as I do. I've often wondered how I would feel when death struck close - very close to home. I've been blessed with being invited to share in the dying process with friends. It was tough. It was more than tough. But my Mom or Dad? Since finding my heart's love in God of this Universe, I have found such a faith that it surprises me time and again. So far, this week at least, this faith has kept me on a steady path. I can't know if that will remain intact. No one knows what is intact this moment will be there the next. We have faith that it will.
I have faith each day that waking is special. That each day is special. And today is another day.