Cancer is a bitch: part three

My father was born in 1924. He was 35 when his first child was born, 49 when his 4th and final daughter was born. In an earlier post I told about my mothers ovarian cancer and my sister colon cancer, now I want to talk about my daddy. He was the most amazing man I ever knew. Not just because he was my daddy, but because he lived a life that more people should emulate. He lived by a strict set of rules for his own behavior, but never held others to those same rules. He accepted everyone for who they were, and gave unconditional love and support and acceptance to those lucky enough to have him in their life.

My father didn't drink, ever (his mother was a member of the Temperance movement) and his older sister had married and divorced an alcoholic when he was a child (he was a change of life baby). My father never smoked. He never was overweight. And at age 83 he walked the 2 mile round trip to my mothers grave almost everyday, and still drove the *old ladies* (most of whom were younger then him) to their doctor appointments. His medication list? one pill for high cholestrol and an albuterol inhaler for his asthma.

In June of 07, my sister (the one with colon cancer) called to say that daddy had been admitted to the hospital. Seems he had been dealing with some diarrhea for a few weeks and finally went to the doctor. The doctor sent him for tests. The colonoscopy showed a blockage.

I knew at that point. Everyone was saying don't borrow bad news. But I knew. Sometimes you just know.

Exploratory surgery was scheduled. They opened him up and closed him back up.

There was cancer in his rectum, colon, pelvic wall, stomach, and in the lining of the liver. Nothing could be done.

Of course my daddy thought he would beat it. He said he wanted to do chemo. His doctor told him he wasn't strong enough.

A second surgery removed a portion of his colon and left him with a colonoscopy bag. He still thought he could beat it. We moved him to a care facility. He found out the man who worked in the office with him for 20 yrs was in the same facility. Daddy had tried the entire time they worked together to get R to go to church with him. On the first sunday in september R went to church with daddy. The next day R died.

One Sept 3, my daddy started talking to his grandpa and my mother when he was sleeping.

On Sept 5, 07 my father joined my mother in heaven. His work here done. Leaving those of us who loved him and were loved by him to carry on without him.

If you have never heard it, go to youtube and listen to Keep Me In Your Heart For Awhile, by Walter Zevon. I first heard it shortly after my mothers death. Zevon wrote it following his diagnosis of terminal, inoperable cancer:


Shadows are fallin' and I'm runnin' out of breath
Keep me in your heart for a while
If I leave you it doesn't mean I love you any less
Keep me in your heart for a while

When you get up in the mornin' and you see that crazy sun
Keep me in your heart for a while
There's a train leavin' nightly called "When All is Said and Done"
Keep me in your heart for a while

Sha-lalala-lala-li-lalala-lo
Keep me in your heart for a while
Sha-lalala-lala-li-lalala-lo
Keep me in your heart for a while

Sometimes when you're doin' simple things around the house
Maybe you'll think of me and smile
You know I'm tied to you like the buttons on your blouse
Keep me in your heart for a while

Hold me in your thoughts
Take me to your dreams
Touch me as I fall into view
When the winter comes
Keep the fires lit
And I will be right next to you

Engine driver's headed north up to Pleasant Stream
Keep me in your heart for a while
These wheels keep turnin' but they're runnin' out of steam
Keep me in your heart for a while

Sha-lalala-lala-li-lalala-lo
Keep me in your heart for a while
Sha-lalala-lala-li-lalala-lo
Keep me in your heart for a while