Cancer Bum-Out Post

I always enjoy comics like this from

Steven Cloud at Boy on a Stick and Slither.

So today I found out from my Mom that the Dadcancer thing is bad, a lot worse than I thought. Until today, I knew it was cancer in the bones and lungs and brain, but just now did I have it spelled out to me. Once it moves from the lungs to other places, it's automatically stage four. That means it's inoperable. That means we don't hope to cure it, just to treat it. That means we're talking about a year now.

And now I'm dealing with all of that. It's hard. It's not fair and it's not right and it's just awful. It's awful for my dad, my mom, and everyone. I don't know what to do, but I guess I'm doing what I can for now. I'm leaving at the end of March. I'm going to work if that's what my parents want, and I'll do housework, and I'll be there as a daughter and someone to help support them both. I'll be with my sister. I'll be near some of my friends, though I've been crappy about maintaining those friendships and will have to be better if I want them to even hang out with me. I'll be away from Chris and Monte, but I'll have them on Skype. It will be hard at times, harder than I can probably imagine. But it's my home.

Today we went to the engagement party of one of Chris's friends. It was really pretty and everyone was very nice and fun, but in the middle of her dad's speech, I almost lost it. That would have been weird, since I had only met her once before, but it's just...why can't I keep believing that my dad will give a speech at my reception and walk me down the aisle and play with my kids? It's awful. This guy was like, a million years old. My dad's so much younger than that. And he was funny, but he's not as funny as my dad. And he was nice, but he's not as nice as my dad. And it's not fair. I know Dad would always tell me that life isn't not fair, but that was when I wanted to stay out all night or have a little brother or get a new toy, not when I wanted my dad to see me marry or finally find my calling or run a triathlon. Not when all I wanted was to make fun of him for turning sixty. He's my dad. This isn't fair. And it's horrible.

Just trying to keep a positive attitude is a tall orders some days. Not most, but some.