Over Labor Day weekend my dad was in a pretty nasty car crash. A deer jumped in front of his truck while he was coming home from the elk hunt, and when he swerved to miss the loping mammal, he rolled the length of a football field. Thankfully, someone saw this happen and stopped. Life flight took my dad to the regional hospital in Provo. They thought he had back and neck fractures, but after the swelling went down, he was cleared on that front. He did have a concussion, broke five ribs, and bruised his lungs.
Ben and I were camping when I found out, and the two hour drive from Mineral Basin in American Fork Canyon, to the hospital in Provo was the longest trip I have ever experienced in my life. I was cursing camping and crying the whole ride there. When we arrived, he looked surprisingly well, aside from the tubes and hospital gadgets. He was in the hospital until September 11th, but he's home now, and he's doing alright.
Here I am, celebrating the luck that my dad has, and I just found out today that he has a tumor on his adrenal gland. Initially, they thought it was a "bleeder" or general trauma from the accident, but today they called to let him know that it is an actual mass.
I shouldn't freak out too bad, because we don't know if it's malignant. Right?
I suppose we'll find out this week, and just move from there.