Telling it like it is

I texted my mom yesterday..."Hello, what's going on. Call me."

 

Then the phone rang and I heard the words "I hate to have this conversation over the phone." Nothing more needed to be said. I knew the outcome.

 

My Dad, his cancer has now invaded the bones. Although their telephone calls, their Facebook updates, and their emails don't say it - it's Stage IV. Once it's invaded the bones, there is no treating the cancer; there is only hoping the Chemo shrinks the tumors. Don't bother Googling the survival rate or prognosis or whatever you optimistically want to call it. As I said - you can't treat the cancer.

 

So what do you do when you know your Dad only has a certain amount of time left? According to him, after his 6 months of Chemo (and possibly radiation) are done he wants to travel to Ireland one last time (although he knows this is most likely not possible) and spend a month at the beach. Do you know how hard it is to hold it together when you hear these words?

 

We shouldn't be having this conversation. It's not fair that we have to have this conversation and the many future conversations that involve the inevitable.

 

I want people to know but I don't want them to ask me how I am. What kind of answer do you give...I mean honestly. My Dad is dying. He's going to die. And sooner than later.

 

Those are the facts. This is life. This is how it is. And it sucks.