Update on My Father

I was pretty much ill all of last week. Sick in anticipation of the news regarding my father's newest hopes for cancer treatment. The report is that he will now be trying some type of infusion treatment, large quantities of some specific medicine--my mom is frustratingly unforthcoming about details--aimed directly at his cancer(s). We can only hope that this treatment will buy him more time. So now, my father goes to dialysis three days a week for four hours, and infusion for a few hours every two weeks. I bought him the memoir Blue Blood, by Edward Conlon, on cd to keep him company. Hmm, I wouldn't mind if Edward Conlon kept me company for a few hours...but I digress.

My father recently said to me that he feels as though his entire life is spent at some doctor's office. He feels so weak and dependent. he refuses to go anywhere if he has to take his oxygen tank. For a man who two years ago beat the crap out of a neighbor kid who sucker punched him for no reason, this must be a terribly frustrating feeling. He is slowly but surely losing his will to live.

What he seems to not realize, however, is that despite the need for him to spend so much time in these places, he and his essence are still alive. He is himself, after all. And until he takes his last breath, no one can take that away. Until he is in too much pain and truly miserable, any moment we can share is worth it. To the rest of us, anyway.