For those of you who follow me on Facebook, you may be aware that my beloved daddy is gravely ill. A few years ago he was diagnosed with multiple myeloma, which is a type of cancer affecting the bone marrow. He received lots of big-time treatment for this, including a bone marrow transplant from his brother... which meant that he had to take immunosuppressant drugs. His myeloma went into remission, but he developed an extremely rare cancerous tumor on his brainstem which occurred precisely because he was too immunosuppressed. This tumor is caused by a viral infection that we all carry around in our bodies, but our immune system keeps it from developing -- usually, the only people who ever get this kind of tumor are AIDS patients. Anyway, this tumor is expected to bring about my dad's untimely demise. Hospice is involved, but he is still mentally alert and knows what is happening (he is a medical doctor, so he's even more aware than most folks would be).
I won't even go into how angry I feel. Yes, yes, I know... I have no real right to be angry with anyone. People die every day all over the world and many of them die much younger than my dad (who's 64). It doesn't make me less angry... and I'm not really angry WITH anyone. I'm not even angry with God. I'm just ANGRY. I don't want my dad to die. He is so smart and loves to fish and hunt and whittle and talk politics and opera... he has worked so freekin' hard his whole freekin' life, and never got to enjoy being retired. He's been reduced to a feeble shell. And I'm mad as hell about it. My sister's two young children won't even remember him and how much he loves them.
Dad has asked me to put together a video montage of pictures and music for his funeral. I have been scanning pictures a few at a time for quite a while now, but it always seemed so distant that I never really kicked it into gear until this week when things started to seem like they were descending faster and faster. I took the day off from school yesterday to spend the entire day at my mom's scanning and piecing things together, and I'm getting pretty close to having something to show him.
And I'm still holding out for a miracle.