pandalicious's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- A Clean Life Early July, 2002: Email. I found out Friday that my Dad has what has become an alarming swelling over his lymph node on the right side of his neck. It's not really noticeable by looking, but once mentioned, you can see it there, where it shouldn't be; exactly on my Dad. They worry it might be cancerous. The antibiotics the doctors prescribed have done no good. I worry it may be cancerous. Because that's what I do best. Worry. I worry that the notions and plans we count on for future days will be different, with us having to deal with something we were surely unprepared for. And you are NEVER prepared for something like cancer. Never. No matter how healthy you may feel, or he may look. Today he went back to the doc and was given a stronger medicine. If this fails to yield results, he will be sent to a nose and throat specialist. Oh let it help. Make it go away. ------ flash forward. This week: Last time we turned out the lights here, we had a knot in our stomach that we were putting away, putting it away, I said, to take out again and re-examine, later. The call came. The not-so-good news that we dreaded. It *is* cancer and it is my Dad's to call his own. How do we do this? We were never thinking of this poison. We thought of a slip or a fall, maybe. A broken bone. A little difficulty peeing. We thought maybe a cold that stuck around a little longer than was welcome. But we never planned it this way: his olden golden age. Fighting something so much smaller than him physically but so much bigger than anything else we could have imagined. But he's strong. He's not lost any weight. That's a good thing. He's not grown tired for doing nothing, not like I do. I tire at the thought of getting out of bed. Dad, on the other hand, is up and at 'em bright and early every single day. Our family lit up the skies, calling state to state to share the sad, to offer up support and warmth and words. This is my wealth. My family threads run thick and weave tightly together, though not always in the most predictable ways. It's the big, reliable blanket. The favorite, even with its years and nubs, it's the best you could have ever hoped for and you keep it near. It's just the thing for times like these. --- I am too far away for this to be happening. I will be there soon. ---- 8:55 p.m. - August 30, '02 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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