needless to say, that no booze for Lent thing has gone bye-by

Kiddo and I got back from Louisiana about 10:30 tonight. Kiddo is at a friend's house and I'm "enjoying" some fairly awful cab (3 Blind Moose, I don't care how cute your name is, your cab sucks) and an episode of Law & Order SVU. It's a weeknight and she's spending the night and I'm drinking because we both need a little decompression.

My dad was first diagnosed with colon cancer in November 1999. When they went in to check things out and do the re-section, they discovered that the cancer had spread to 3 of his lymph nodes. They removed a section of colon and the lymph nodes and he went through a round of chemo. He was clear for a long time.

In 2002, he went in for his 3-year checkup. I remember when we talked before that - he was flip about it, "Oh yeah, 3 years, it's just part of the deal." I also remember the tone of his voice when he called me after that appointment, when he called to tell me that the cancer was back. There was a mass in his lungs and in his stomach.

He went through chemo-therapy again. Because of the location, surgery and radiation weren't options, so he went through chemo again and again and again. He lost his hair, and he threw up. When his white blood-cell count was too low to go through chemo, he got $6000 shots that made him hurt almost as much as the chemo. The one treatment that actually seemed to have any effect on the cancer was the stuff that made him so sick he said, no...never again. Everything else just seemed to keep things in check.

A few weeks ago, he went into the hospital because he was having problems with his kidneys. I wrote about this - in the end, he wound up having stints put in so that things would work right. But the doctor said then, that with all the tumors, he wasn't sure how long the stints would work. That was when they told him he had a few months.

Last Friday, my step-mother called me. She said that his kidneys were giving him problems again, and the doctors told him there was nothing else they could do. They said "it's just a matter of time." They talked about checking for a blockage, but that got put off till today (Monday.)

My dad has spent 6 1/2 years with cancer. During this time, I've never seen him look or even sound sick. I've seen him bald and I've heard him tired and pissed off, but never ever sick.

The man I saw this weekend was not my dad. He was a man who needed help to get out of bed and had to walk with a cane. He was a man who lost track of what was going on with his checkbook and didn't joke his way through the uncomfortable stuff. He whistled when he breathed, and he winced when he sat down and the only thing he ate all day Sunday was an orange. This man was a sick man. This was a dying man.

He kept telling me that if I saw anything, or could think of, anything I wanted, to let him know, because he didn't know what to leave me. And I kept telling him, "Dad, I don't care" because I don't. I just want my daddy to get better, and if I can't have that, I don't know. I guess I want this over with. I don't want him to go through kidney failure - I don't care how "peaceful" it's supposed to be. It's a long, drawn-out death for a man that doesn't deserve it.

I suppose I should be grateful for the chance to give him one more hug, and tell him I love him one more time, and hear him talk like he used to during his all-too-infrequent moments of lucidity. I should be grateful. I suppose I am. But I think right now, I'm too angry to be truly grateful.

They went to the doctor today, and there's really nothing they can do. Well, they can put in tubes so that he drains the way you're supposed to drain, but they can't guarantee him how long that will work. He's supposed to let them know tomorrow if he wants to do it, but both my step-mom and I are pretty sure that he won't. Which is fine. I don't think I'd like to live with drains in my body either, so I can't blame him. If they could tell him definitely it would make things better for 6 months, he'd probably do it (these are his words via Stepmom) and again? I understand. But he's tired of living this way, and he's tired of no guarantees and, he's tired.

So they say that he'll get to a point where he just eats less and less and sleeps more and more until he just doesn't wake up. And it's so hard to think about a man who hunted and could fix just about anything and coached T-ball and took me fishing and fathered three children and knew everything about everything just fading away like that.

I'm just pissed right now. I'm pissed that I wasted time thinking my dad didn't care and I'm pissed that I waited so long between phone calls and I'm pissed off that this is how he has to go. I've spent a long time very serenely saying that there must be some higher power, there has to be something up there running the show, because if it's all just random, if good people die horrible deaths for no reason, then I'm just giving up now.

Higher power, if you have a reason for this, I'd like to see it right about now.