When Lucas was born, it was discovered that his testicles hadn't dropped down into the scrotum. The doctor told us that they could drop anytime in the first year and if they hadn't, not to worry, he'd be sent to see a specialist who would perform a simple operation to pull them down. His first birthday came and his testicles didn't drop. An appointment was made with the specialist for Oct. 7 and an ultrasound was scheduled for August 20 at 3:30 pm at Children's Hospital.

A friend of mine was in from out of town staying with us. We headed down to the hospital thinking it would only take about half an hour and then we'd go out to dinner afterward. The technician was scanning for almost an hour when she finally said, "OK, I just have to get another doctor to look over these images and they may want to take a couple of more scans."

It's something I've heard before and it never meant anything. I glanced at the ultrasound monitor and noticed the word 'kidney' in the upper right hand corner. We were there for Luke's testicles, why were they looking at his kidneys? About 15 minutes passed before another doctor came and sat down with us by the ultrasound machine. He was having a hard time making eye contact and the first question he asked was "So, why is he having an ultrasound today? Have you noticed anything wrong with him lately?"

I answered we were there for his testicles and that we hadn't noticed anything wrong with Luke. The doctor turned his stool towards us. His face was gray; he didn't look like he was feeling well. He began talking to us, struggling to find the words and not knowing exactly how to say what he wanted [needed] to say to us. "We can't find his testicles at this point," he began ('My son has no testicles?!' races through my mind) "and to be honest, that's not what concerns us. We have found two large masses, one on each of his kidneys."

I look at the doctor and calmly query "His father had Wilm's tumour when he was this age. Is this similar?"

The doctor looks at Bob with some amazement and then back at me, "Yes, it looks like this is also a Wilm's tumour."

I look at Bob, 27 years past his diagnosis and treatment, and the seriousness of the situation is completely lost to me as he sits there holding my hand. The doctor doesn't say anything more so I begin to explain to him how we have an appointment with the urologist in October. The doctor looks at me and says "I don't think what I've just told you has really sunk in yet," (it had, I was just waiting to know what happens from there) "and I have to make some phone calls and get some of the specialists to talk to you tonight."

Within 20 minutes, the oncologist and two surgeons were talking to us. They talked briefly about different procedures and schedules of what they should or shouldn't do. Pieces of information were coming to us; his right kidney was entirely replaced by a tumor so it was going to have to come out completely. The other kidney had a small tumor at the top so they discussed what would be the best way not only to beat the cancer but to also save as much of the left kidney as well.

Finally, the tentative schedule we were given that night was to come back first thing the next morning. Luke would be admitted and put under while they did a CT scan. Surgery would then take place on Sunday.

As the hospital doors swished open and then shut behind us, it felt like I had stepped outside of my own life and into someone else's dream. Everything had changed and I wasn't going to understand just how much it had changed until many days later.

Feeling very numb, we drove to a local restaurant and tried to eat. I could only shovel in a couple of mouthfuls before I decided to just stop.

When we got home, I got on the phone and started to call a few people. I called my ex and asked him if he could look after the older two boys and I explained what had happened. He was very supportive and said that if there was anything we needed him to do, to just ask and he'd be right there. I was grateful that I wasn't going to have to worry about the safety and security of the older kids.

My ex's sister stopped by the house with a plate full of homemade chocolate chip cookies. I told her what had happened and she broke down. Again, an offer of assistance was made. We talked for about half an hour. She calmed down and went home to talk to her husband.

I then called Bob's mom and asked her if she could come over because I needed some help. I was looking forward to talking to her because she had been through all of this with Bob and I thought that she would be of great assistance to us. She arrived 5 minutes later and I sat her down and explained to her what had happened. She immediately jumped up from her seat and stated that she had to go and she had to go NOW! She was obviously upset and I didn't want her driving in that state so I begged her to stay. I told her that I needed her to be there, that I needed her help. She sat down, took three deep breaths then stood up again and said "No. I have to go now. I have to try and get a hold of Bob's dad."
Then she left.

I called my mom and sister and asked them to come over as there was something I wanted to talk to them about. They didn't ask any questions over the phone and arrived about 10 minutes later. I told them what had happened at the hospital. They took it in and then offered their support and assistance. They asked a few questions about what was being planned and when. My mom told me she'd meet us at the hospital the next day and would be there with us while we were going through everything. They stayed for about an hour before they went home again.

We went to bed after that, but I couldn't sleep. I knew I couldn't nurse Luke after 3 am because he was going to go under for the CT in the morning so I worried about him waking up and wanting me. I laid in bed awake most of the night.