The Difference A Day Can Make

It felt like a hammer that hit my back,

Caused me to turn,

And wake up,

As my eyes caught the sun;

The blues of another Monday morning.

I noticed my rugged self in the mirror,

The strange yellow coloration of my eyes,

Worse,

And my waist,

The smallest circumference it had ever been.

What could this be?

The day my doctor would finally tell me.

A cup of tea and a slice of toast was all I could ingest,

Before a phone buzzed,

My wife screamed,

"I got the job!",

A deafening cheer.

She rushed to hug our daughter,

Who was six months away from being a lawyer.

She teared up as she called our son,

Three months till, he too, would be a father.

I fixed my tie,

Proudly smiled,

And kissed her goodbye.

Now, I am sitting in a dark office,

Staring at my doctor,

Who begins to talk tensely.

Words stand out to me,

From his long, practiced sentences.

"Cancer,

Pancreatic,

stage III,

You might have months."

The air is sucked out of my lungs,

As I look at the floor,

And am forced to ponder.

Will I ever be able to see my wife off to work,

And cook her some dinner,

To welcome her home at night?

Will I ever be able to clap for my daughter,

And cry like a proud father,

As she walks elegantly in her cap and gown?

Will I ever be able to hold my grandson in my arms,

Sing him a lullaby,

And watch his innocent eyes as they fall asleep?

I think to myself,

Had my doctor thought about these things too?

I gather the courage to look up,

As I find his blank,

Emotionless face.

I have no idea what to say,

except,

"Wow,

What a difference a day can make."