Dad's Attitude

Dad has Stage 3 rectal cancer. 70% survival rate. I'll take those odds. 

We've been processing it, accepting it, and we're ready to fight it. Dad will not go quietly into the night. Oh no, far from it.

One might almost say he's using this as his chance to finally get his real opinions out guilt free.

Radiation and Chemo began this week. Dad relayed the fun of the process on facebook for all:

"My darling wife and I have found a cold. We are cultivating it at this time as we try to build a resistance to this strain. The process of getting radiation treatment for me requires that I lay on a narrow table just wide enough to fit my body. Then I lay face down on this aparatus. there is a hole for you face reminiscent of a massage table. There is an opening for your stomach and as the English say your "naughty parts." Everything must be out of the way for the exact position of the radiation rays. They alingn your body to the table with indelible marks they make on your side and backside. They don't shout ,"ready, aim, fire" but they should. Just for levity. The thing is your head is stuck in this hole with your chin, cheekbones and forehead sticking partly through. Your arms go above your head. Then they say, "don't move.' So you don't move because you don't want to screw up the pictures they take of your butt. God no because this would prolong things. Right about now the anithistamine I took stopped working. It is hard to breath and my nose is running and dripping on the table. YYYYYeeeeecccchhhh!!!! The nurses voice rings in your head don't move!!! It has been 45 minutes judging by the clock in my head. I can't open my mouth because my jaw is jammed against the padded opening for my head and yes my nose continues to run. I force myself to look at the bright side ,,,, at least I don't have gas. That would make it more embarrassing. It is to laugh."

I believe he's handling this very well. As best as any of us could, at any rate. And for that, and many other things, I'm blessed.