Fuck Cancer
On February 14, 2005 (yes, Valentines Day) I received some horrible news; my father's melanoma had spread to his lungs.
I have mentioned before that someone very close to me has cancer, but I've never mentioned who.
My father is a ship wreck researcher/explorer. He's sort of a celebrity in his field. Up until recently he was keeping his cancer a secret, so I couldn't mention it, but now he's pretty much told everyone in the shipwreck community so I feel more comfortable talking about it.
It has been very weird for me to not be able to write about it, so this is quite a relief.
It's a HUGE part of my life.
Every three weeks my father comes and stays with us for a week because he gets his chemo treatments in New York.
No one ever wants to go through something like this, but it has taught me so much.
My father REFUSES to give up. His stubbornness has caused me frustration many times in my life, but now I'm thankful for it.
I swear that your mental attitude has a lot to do with how well your body fights a disease. My father is a testament to that. Here we are almost a year later, he has one of the deadliest forms of cancer, and his tumors have stalled. They're even giving him an eight week break from the chemo.
We do not not treat his disease as if it is something we should be embarrassed of. We do not whisper about it; we shout about it.
When my father leaves in the morning for his chemo treatment the last thing I say before he walks out the door is "Have fun!"
On Monday when I went to his doctor's appointment with him, my pregnancy exhaustion was consuming me and I was lying on a couch in the waiting room. My father looked at me and said "Hey! I'm the patient!"
This disease has caused us to make a lot of sacrifices, but we refuse to give up our sense of humor.
Part of me is grateful for the time I've had with my father, but part of me hates how it hangs over me.
When I think about the future it's weird to realize that I can't count on my father being there.
But I guess, no one should really count on tomorrow.
My father will probably be there for the birth of my child, but will he still be around to teach my child how to swim?
He's taught all four of his kids and all five of his grandchildren to swim. I don't want my child to be the exception.
Right now, my father has no symptoms from his disease. It's not making him sick, yet.
I think that will be the hardest part for me, seeing my father sick. He's always been the strongest person I know.
But I try not to think about that.
Comments
Hugs, honey, hugs.
When my dad was undergoing cancer treatment, it was absolutely something that we talked about and tried to joke about when we could. It was just better to have it all out in the open; I think it was a little easier for us all, Dad included, to not treat it as a taboo subject.
You know you and your dad are in my thoughts, a lot. I'm glad you are able to write about it here now.
Posted by: Bucky Four-Eyes | February 1, 2006 01:38 PM
Fuck Cancer indeed! I hope your Dad continues his fight as I *totally* agree with you on the stubborn will to survive thing.
Many years ago my Dad was having "issues" that he chose to ignore and treat himself. When it finally got so bad that it was interfering with his work he went to see the Dr. At that point, he was given a 2% chance of survival. 2fucking%!!! Colon cancer had ravaged his entire colon and part of his intestines.
He was too stubborn and ornery to give up. Without being too graphic, he went through chemo and NUMEROUS surgeries and colostomy bags and now at the age of 69 he's without a colostomy bag, without a colon and WITHOUT any shred of cancer in his entire body.
Your Dad (and your entire family) have the right frame of mind to kick Cancer's ass.
I will keep him and all of you in my thoughts!
I'm so glad you can write about it now and get things out there. I hope it helps you deal as well.
Posted by: Suzie | February 1, 2006 02:32 PM
I love ya, sweetie.
Posted by: Fuzzball | February 1, 2006 03:13 PM
I'm sure that being able to write about this is a huge weight lifted. Hugs to you and to your father. Fuck cancer!
Posted by: mrtl | February 1, 2006 04:14 PM
Thanks for sharing this, Torrie. I'll bet it feels good to just get it out there. I'm sure that knowing this baby is coming will be something for him to look forward to... to fight for. It's important to have something like that in this situation. Big bloggy hugs!
Posted by: Charlotte | February 1, 2006 05:19 PM
Like you said, you have to count your blessings. My Dad didn't make it to my wedding day. He will not be there when my sister has her baby. He was orphaned at 4, and my mother was orphaned at 5. (Casualties of WWII) You are very lucky in that your father has shared so much more of your life than my father and grandfathers did with their kids. And also keep in mind that your Dad WILL MAKE IT and WILL teach that baby how to swim. :)
Posted by: Laryssa | February 1, 2006 06:43 PM
Dear Torrie,
I completly understand how it feels not to be able to talk about something like this on here. I'm not at liberty to discuss something like this either. I'm glad you can now. I can only imagine how you must feel to be able to let it out. I relied on my blog a lot in the beginning and now it's kinda hit a wall, because I want to discuss something that I can't. You are so brave and so fortunate to know what you have and to make every moment count.
XO
Greenie
Posted by: greenie | February 1, 2006 11:26 PM
I'm glad you could get this out, write it down.
There are a lot of things I don't write about because the people involved are part of my life and they read my blog and I don't want them to be hurt.
Hang in there.
Posted by: suburban misfit | February 2, 2006 12:28 AM
Ohhh. I'm so sorry. Live every day to the fullest.
xxx
Posted by: JD's Rose | February 2, 2006 09:07 AM
Watching someone you love have to deal with something like that sucks big donkey dick.
I agree - fuck cancer.
Posted by: southernfriedgirl | February 2, 2006 03:00 PM
You know there are a lot of people in your Dad's corner. It's scary when we get older and have to start looking at our parents as real people, with real physical frailties and weakenesses. But it also gives us a chance to know them as friends, rather than "parents" ... so ... there's that. Cold comfort, but that's all you get.
Fuck cancer is right.
Posted by: Nilbo | February 3, 2006 11:13 AM
wow. i can't believe how hard it's been not to be able to vent about this on your blog. you're always so open on it. i know how hard this is, my mom has dealt with cancer issues as well and is fortunately okay now. i pray your dad continues his amazing attitude, because i am ABSOLUTELY positive that has a HUGE impact on a person's ability to heal and stay strong. Good for your dad! And good for you!
best thoughts.
Posted by: Sarcomical | February 6, 2006 12:02 PM
The only way to deal with cancer is to decide it is not going to get you - every morning, every night - 2 words - FUCK CANCER. Or if you prefer, as I do, FUCK YOU CANCER.
Posted by: maureen | June 18, 2007 07:55 PM