I have a distinct memory of flying on his legs while he balanced me in the air, only to crash me down into the couch. I remember him tickling me as a little kid until I cried and yelled 'uncle.' I can still see him grilling on our charcoal (!), round, red grill in the backyard all summer long. He loves to read and I do, too. He taught me that a personal note signed onto the bottom of a business letter, makes a statement. I learned how to mow the lawn from him--with a pushmower. He does not have a mind for technical things and is numbers challenged. Oh, do we have that in common! He cried with me when I didn't get cheerleading captain. We have the same sense of humor, always a little wry and a lot witty. I am tall like he is and look like his side of the family. I can sing and he...can't. :-) He loves Christmas music all year round.
And now the colon cancer that he was diagnosed with last summer...the one in which he had surgery to remove it from his colon...has moved to his liver. No full details yet, but he had a PET scan that confirmed that the lesions were cancer. There is an appointment next week that I will call in to from Orlando. The doctor has already mentioned surgery to remove the lesions from the liver as it will rebuild itself and you can live without part of it. It seems he may be a candidate for that type of surgery and we are praying that he is. After some research online, it seems that there is good success rate and a high rate of life longevity if the lesions are not too large and can be removed. His doctor seemed very much in attack mode on the phone with him and has a goal of getting him cancer free.
This is hard. I have hardly mentioned it to my friends, only a few colleagues at work that needed to know. So I post it here to sort of let it out gently. I don't want to be the person that everyone says, "Can you believe all that has happened in their family? Sad, sad." Who wants that label? I recalled a conversation today that I had with a friend years ago. One of my coworkers son's was dying from leukemia. I said to her, "It could be any one of us." Four months later, my husband's dad was diagnosed with cancer and died that many months later. So, suffering and pain, are you here to stay? I don't want to watch my dad go through this. We still need him here.