“How’s your Dad doing? I never see you say anything about him on your Facebook?”
This is a question I hear often. I understand the inquiry and appreciate when friends worry about him. It’s usually friends asking who know, love and are praying for him. Please know every single moment of positive energy and love you send into the universe for my family is a gift and is appreciated from the bottom of our hearts. But for the record, I won’t be discussing my Dad’s cancer, his treatment, his diagnosis or progress on social media.
And here’s why:From the first moment since we found out, I’ve been raw, shredded, knocked off my mooring and drifting, grasping, searching, cheering for those crumbs of hope, crumpled in despair when a cancer cell eats that crumb, resolute, AND SO ANGRY sometimes I can’t see straight or breathe. Sometimes all these feelings happen in the same moment and completely overwhelm me. So if I’ve been able to answer this question for you in person, it’s only by the grace of God I didn’t ugly snot cry all over you.
The main reason I can’t write about the specifics are because every time, every single solitary time, those kinds of words come out of my mouth they nearly rip me apart. That’s what cancer does, you know. It tears things up.I HATE CANCER.
I hate those rampant little asshole cells who grow and push into places they don’t belong with a fiery passion. How DARE those cancer cells touch my Dad?! The unmitigated GALL of it all nearly turns me into a rage beast! There is no making sense of cancer. There are no answers to all the whys. And as a person of action, I’m crippled by the strangle hold of not being able to do one damn thing about cancer being in my Dad’s body. I’m a fixer, damn it, and there is just no fixing him.
Well, I never said I was rational about it.
As an author, my life is dedicated to words. I see them in my dreams. They dance on the surface of my world. Words on the page bring emotions roaring to life for me with each combination of letters. So to write about all the treatments and symptoms blah blah, medicine, blah blah, doctors would absolutely rip me apart inside. I just can’t endure using words to describe the things that have thrown my family into the gapping maw of emotional hell for over a year. I actually don’t even know if I could communicate them properly.
Anyway, it would probably all come out as GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRajsdhfkaugsidgfaisdgbifabsd;f.
So we if see each other in person, ask away. I won’t ever mind you asking me about Dad. I know you’re asking because you care. Cancer is a fact of my life now. It’s touched me and I’ll bear that mark forever. I will bear it with courage for him. He’s endured cancer treatment for me and my family. Being courageous for him is the least I can do. As far as the words I put into the world, you’ll see my dog being spoiled, my kids being kids, me hanging out with writers and readers, the characters and stories I create, and me drinking more coffee than I should.And giving cancer a double middle finger.