Did you hear me?
2 YEARS AGO.
2 years ago I was told to enjoy the holidays that upcoming December and to cherish every moment we had because this is a terminal disease. I have seen my dad spend 2 more summers golfing, riding his motorcycle, and drinking beers with his friends. I opened Christmas presents with him 2 times since, took him to see "A Christmas Carol", went with him to get my driver's license, and have shared a million laughs. And he has stage 4 renal cancer.Of course now he has stage 4 renal cancer in his lungs, blood, spine, liver, brain and 1 remaining kidney. But it's still a full 2 years later.
Now, with my personal beliefs, those full 2 years later didn't fall upon us on through an act of god. They came at a heavy price. A price of weeks in the ICU for IL2 treatments, to weak-fatigued days and nights with chemo treatments, and to start 2013 with intense radiation treatment. My dad has fought for every moment to beat this thing, even as it gained momentum over his body.
The past few weeks have been especially hard as all these little medical miracles have finally taken a severe toll on my dad's health. He is still my dad in every witty, quick, and sarcastic response to the attention and support he is shown through so many friends and family. But things have gotten a little bleak and as to be expected it's exhausting mentally and physically. I'm experiencing my own response in ways I never imaged - beyond the sad and worried, but the heartbreaking feeling that someone you love with all of your heart is in pain. And you just want that pain to go away.
2 Saturdays in a row I have watched the Chicago skyline zoom past me on the way to Northwestern Memorial Hospital. Both times not knowing if I would leave that hospital with a dad. I think there is a thing as to being over prepared, and I don't want to tarnish the moments we have together now thinking about what is going to happen when we aren't. I have to just get up every day and have a dad, and love him and support him until I don't have a dad any more. And that's a weird and confusing thing.
But here's what's amazing: after fighting like hell, and struggling to keep to his feet in this fight, he met with his oncology team today and started another round of chemo. It's borderline insane behavior. But I am humbled and in awe of the strength and will it takes to keep punching through it. I have known so many men, and I can't think of a single one of them being so badass as to just jump into survival at any means they can find it. It's brave, crazy, and in a world where he isn't my dad, crazy sexy.
2 years ago my dad was diagnosed with stage 4 renal cancer. Yesterday night my dad called to tell me his new nurse was George O'Malley. I am so lucky to have had every moment we weren't supposed to, and I am even luckier to have a dad that will fight for as many more as we can.
