(Wed. Aug. 28 edit: Sorry for this duplicate e-mail for some of you. Gremlins deleted this post from my blog. Today’s update will come later tonight.)
About five moments after I was born, my dad was diagnosed with cancer. Lymphoma. It was the kind of case that defies all medical text books. It is legend in my family. Cancerous whatnot as big as a football removed from him. Stage Four. The stage the doctors put you on a raft and push you out to the River Styx.
But. He is The Man Who Lived.
Some of you are unlucky enough to remember those days. I only put together the stories through very dim memories of a cancer support group, photos, and a rare memory shared by a family friend.
Here is one piece of evidence I was fascinated with in my childhood.
Dad’s wig. I’m sure he will be delighted to see it plastered on the Internet. This wig is the last brown hair he ever saw. It grew back in silvery grey. The same perfect grey hair that I wanted so badly to comb tonight when I went to visit him. He is the person in the family who most takes care of his hair. Maybe cuz he lost it once already.
He was better today. Still on the respirator, but that was the plan. The doctor my mom saw this afternoon was almost cautiously optimistic. My mom and I are both home tonight, in hopes of getting sleep without nurses or beeps or beeps or beeps. God, the beeping, amiright!?
Because he has no spleen (see above re: cancer and removal of body parts), he will need extra time to fight this assteria. (That didn’t work. Makes it sound like he has colon issues. How would you combine asshole and bacteria?) Thanks for your continued thoughts, love, support, food, humor, prayers, comments. Send him some extra love where his spleen should be.