A) Grateful for my life?
B)Pissed at my life?
C)Numb?
D) All of the above?
Mostly "D". The answer's always "D".
A week and a half ago, my father was diagnosed with prostate cancer. When my mother first told me I was actually pretty ok. Prostate cancer is just one of those things that happen to men at a certain age, and if caught early...pretty damn treatable. Of course my first inclination was 'to get it out'...cut 'im open and take it out. And both Mom and Dad were of like mind. I think most of my family was.
Then I met with my own doctor for my own self...and he said the risks of surgery are worse than the disease, or at least the odds to extend his life were minimal at best - I thought, maybe we need to rethink this. And again, family agreed. So back to their doctor(s) they went. This time to an oncologist. Which led to a pelvic scan. Which led to a new diagnoses of kidney cancer.
And that's all we know. We don't know what stage, we don't know how bad, how invasive, how long, what treatments beyond surgery or even when surgery needs to take place. I'm just in limbo. We're all in limbo.
And I know I need to take this one step at a time. He has a bone scan on Thursday. A meeting with the oncologist on Monday. Will they tell me weeks or years? I don't know. Am I grateful I've already planned a trip home? Of course. Am I aware that my father is 78 years old and grateful I've had him this long? Of course. But do we typically want all we can get? Oh yes.
My Dad is my hero. My John Wayne. My fighter pilot. The old man you see at a war memorial. He has laid bare his life for this country and his family. He's more worried about my Mom than himself.
And at the moment...there's nothing I can do. In a family of type "A" personalities...that's problematic. And who should we tell when? Do we panic people for nothing? Or give them a chance to wrap their own brains around the process? I just don't know.
What I can do is pray. I can pray that it's simply a single kidney. A single prostate thingy. I don't know how all those parts work. I know I don't want it to be in his bones. I know I'm not yet ready to say good-bye. I do know that the man just has to get a hearing aid before it's over so he can hear me say I love him. I know he knows it, but I want him to hear me.
I want to tell him about my wonderful trip to Seattle. Where I got to see world famous fishermen toss their fish as a sales team. Something I saw in a team building exorcize years back.
That I got to see Kurt Cobain's memorial (not that my dad knows who Kurt Cobain is nor that I almost never listened to Nirvana)...but I did get a private bus tour of some of the more interesting neighborhoods and history of the seamy side of Seattle.
That after 35 years, I finally found real, live mango-stein fruit. An obsession of mine since I left Bangkok at 6 years old. Couldn't find it in LA, San Francisco, or the world market in Atlanta...but in a huge Asian market in Seattle...I could buy all I wanted for $13.99/lb! I bought four. Fruits, not pounds.
From there, I walked to Nordstrom's. Just because I'm a girl and the original is 9 floors of over-priced wares. When I spied a beautiful rhinestone necklace, the sales lady assured me it was a steal. I told her the next time $129 was a steal...I'd be back.
Instead I spent my money on a 'Ride the Ducks' amphibious tour of a different part of the city. One part on land, the other part on sea. A stellar adventure both ways. And after my four mile walk (that I'm incredibly proud of)...I finished the day with a quick ride up the Space Needle.
But throughout all of that one-day adventure...I just kept thinking how much my parents would like to know that I'm enjoying my life. And no matter what lies in the future...the one thing that would make my dad happy is knowing I'm happy and making myself just as healthy as I can be. Please join me as I pray he can watch me do that just as long as he possibly can.
Me...
