Monday, August 28, 2006


This post is a bit raw. It's disjointed and more a stream of consciousness than anything. I've been avoiding posting about Dad's Cancer, because I've been avoiding thinking or feeling about it. You can only do that for so long before it smacks you in the face again. That happened yesterday afternoon. It's almost like I can only keep the emotions contained for so long before they swell up and need to be released. That being said, here's a Dad update.

Dad has a CT scan scheduled for today. Yesterday, He told me how he is anxious to see the results. I told him that I'd be thinking good thoughts and praying for positive news. I know there will be good results. I am willing good results. I want to know, I don't want to know. Dealing with this is such a rollercoaster of emotion.

I am in awe of my parents strength and love. October will bring their 43rd Wedding Anniversary. They have always been a team. Life has thrown all kinds of crap their way, this being the biggest steaming pile of shit anyone could step in. They are handling this with more courage and calm than I could ever imagine. I wish I could find a love like theirs someday.

Dad opened his Social Security statement from the daily mail. He told me he would receive the same benefit, if he took disability now or retired at 66. He kind of shrugged and said he's going to do that, apply for disability now. He said it so matter-of-factly, casually.

This simple statement struck me on many levels. Does he think he won't see 66? No. He said he was going to fight. But. Fighting doesn't necessarily mean winning. As always, Dad's being realistic, sensible. I cannot accept that reality. To me, there is no being sensible under these circumstances. The only acceptable option is beating it. Cancer does many unpredictable things: it goes into remission, it disappears. I know Dad believes this.

When we first got the diagnosis, my parents planned to sell the place in Maine. Dad didn't want to leave Mom with the burden of a second home. The last time I was in Maine, Dad made a comment to me & my brother about "Maybe we won't sell it at all". The look in his eye told me, he was thinking they wouldn't have to, that he would beat this.

Maybe, it's just because he's feeling so tired from the Chemo. The treatment that's wiping out the Cancer is also wearing down his spirit. Radiation and Chemo take an expensive toll on the healthy part of the body while killing off the cancerous cells.

I told Dad to go for it, as far as Social Security goes. Take the benefits. He's worked so hard for so long. They both have. I am not saying that to encourage enjoying the time his has left, like it's a limited time. My parents deserve to retire to Florida, play lots of golf and have their children visit often. (What do you think that spare bedroom would be for anyway?)

This isn't just a kick in the balls you defeatingly accept. I told him to go for it as a "Fuck You Cancer", I am going to beat your ass and live!


James Cooper said...


Your dad has a lot to live for and he should absolutely keep up the fight. Remind him that there are a lot of people pulling for him and that he has a huge cheer section to lend him their energy. And remember that this cheer section is here to support you always as well.

Magick Mojo Monkees, go!

KFarmer said...

Sweets, your post has me choked and speechless so I will reserve my comment for later-

But for now, will send love and warm fuzzies your way... :)

Stu said...

Sharfa, life is shitty sometimes, no doubt. I'm sorry for that, because you, above others, don't deserve shitty, and neither does your dad.

Whether he sells the house or not, whether he does disability now or not, it will be his decision made out of love and thoughtfulness for others. Trust his current path as you have his previous paths. If he chooses to say Fuck You Cancer, that's his choice. And if he decides to be realistic, sensible, that's his choice as well and he probably won't come to that choice lightly. We can only hope that whatever choice he makes, that it brings him peace.

Obviously I'm rooting for the Fuck You Cancer attitude. I'd be happy to set up a Cafe Press shop that sells Fuck You Cancer shirts.

You're all in our prayers.

Sharfa said...

James - He is and I will. Every comment, every healing thought, the unwavering support, is a shining light that comforts me in my darkest moments. I only have the strength and courage to face this, because of you wonderful Monkees.

K - You are adept at reading between the lines, seeing what's in my heart, and understanding what I cannot express with words. Thank you.

Stu - You speak truth in a gentle and thoughtful manner. You are the calm voice of reason in my storm of feeling. Your words bring me back to mind over emotion. I am grateful for your tender reason.

Suldog said...

As always, prayers are being said. Keep your spirits up. Dad needs your smiles, right?