February 13th, 1973: I couldn't help much today, because there was school. We're just hanging on until Thursday.
February 13th, 2013: A short original entry. A short follow up. Dad, and the rest of us, were still playing the waiting game, to find out if the spot on his lung was malignant. It had to have been a week of unrest for him. Mentally and physically. I can remember more silence than usual. A much darker, more somber "feel" around the house. But he wasn't complaining, or exhibiting the "why me" questions.
Tests must have been done. In Pittsfield, in Quincy, maybe both. A week seems long to wait for results like this. So important in the balance of someone's life. But maybe that's where technology was then.
Dad continued to work, mom continued to be "mom" and the homemaker she was. I continued to go to school. I didn't make note of it then, but I'm betting my friends at school were supporting me, and giving words of encouragement. I know they did. It just wasn't entered in my original diary, in detail, every day.