Trying to breathe.

I'm waiting.

And I'm worrying.

And I'm trying to function but failing miserably.

My dad's been fighting prostate cancer off and on for the past seven years - he was diagnosed the same year my brother died of cancer. He went through a high-tech "proton radiation" therapy at a California hospital the year before Chloe was born and it put him in "remission".

But his PSA count is back up. Up enough that they're saying the cancer is back.

He went and had some testing done, in Florida this time - a fancy version of an MRI that allows them to see just how much the cancer has progressed, and to give him more specific information than a simple biopsy could give.

He was scheduled to call the doctors for a conference call at 2:30 this afternoon to go over the results.

It's 4:00 now. I haven't heard from my parents yet. I don't know if they're still talking to the doctor, or if they aren't calling me for some other reason.

I'm sick to my stomach with worry. I keep pacing mindlessly around the house, feigning cleaning and straightening, while I watch the clock and wonder if it's too early to call.

If you're the praying type, would you say a prayer for him? And for my mom... I can't imagine how worried she must be, though she's that strong type of woman who doesn't often show it. And if you're not the praying type, would you mind sending some positive energy thoughts our way? We could use 'em.

I'll sit here and hold back tears, and pretend to fold laundry, and try to remember to take deep breaths. And I'll say a silent prayer of thankfulness for the inventor of the Barbie dolls that are entertaining my kids while I walk around uselessly waiting for the phone to ring.

Edited to update: Essentially, the results of the test are that... he needs more tests. They don't really know much still. :::sigh::: The unknown sucks.