Today marks the one-month anniversary of the date I learned my father is dying. On the bright side, the low end of the prognosis range was 4-6 weeks and he's met that so far, and holding strong. On the far-less bright side, the upper end is around 6 months, making it unlikely that he will make it even to Independence Day. My father is the strongest man I know. If anyone will make it, The Brow-Kahuna-Big Buddha will make it.
When the lung cancer was discovered, it was already at Stage 4 and metastized such that three ribs and a vertebra had been compromised. His doctor was amazed that Dad had been managing the pain with over the counter Tylenol and Advil for months. Finally, though his back hurt enough, and consistently enough, that he decided to get an Xray to see what was up. The tumors were discovered in the Xray. Biopsies the next day confirmed the crappy diagnosis, and even crappier prognosis.
I have been wrestling with this since it so rudely intruded in on life. I alluded to it in a previous post (Pop and Whoosh - scroll down), but haven't had the courage to face it directly and put anything really into words and text. I guess I was thinking that by avoiding putting anything into words, it would go away, kind of like a bad dream. Unfortunately, this is real, and not going away. It's a crappy reality I need to face. I apologize in advance if this space gets maudlin occasionally at some point in the future, and I'm not looking for sympathy or empathy or anything from anybody. I think I just needed to tell someone, and telling the faceless internet is easiest.
On the interent, nobody sees you cry.
When the lung cancer was discovered, it was already at Stage 4 and metastized such that three ribs and a vertebra had been compromised. His doctor was amazed that Dad had been managing the pain with over the counter Tylenol and Advil for months. Finally, though his back hurt enough, and consistently enough, that he decided to get an Xray to see what was up. The tumors were discovered in the Xray. Biopsies the next day confirmed the crappy diagnosis, and even crappier prognosis.
I have been wrestling with this since it so rudely intruded in on life. I alluded to it in a previous post (Pop and Whoosh - scroll down), but haven't had the courage to face it directly and put anything really into words and text. I guess I was thinking that by avoiding putting anything into words, it would go away, kind of like a bad dream. Unfortunately, this is real, and not going away. It's a crappy reality I need to face. I apologize in advance if this space gets maudlin occasionally at some point in the future, and I'm not looking for sympathy or empathy or anything from anybody. I think I just needed to tell someone, and telling the faceless internet is easiest.
On the interent, nobody sees you cry.
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