Love and Cancer - part III (Men)

This is my third blog installment dealing with my dad’s cancer.   

I don’t know my mother. My dad has been taking care of me since I was three years old. I don’t know who my mom is, and to be perfectly honest, I never cared. My dad is both parents. I remember, vividly, in Technicolor, the day dad took me to the store to buy sanitary napkins for the first time. Dad paced and fidgeted in the grocery store isle nervously while I read each box of feminine product carefully to make sure we bought the retail I needed. When we left the grocery store that day I looked up at my dad, he looked down at me, eyes filled with kindness, and he didn’t know if he was supposed to hug me, pat me on the head, give me a speech, or what. It was adorable really. Poor guy! Not knowing what to do that day, dad took me out for ice cream. Pistachio Nut. My favorite.

I started smoking when I was 12 years old. I was buying packs of cigarettes when I was 17 years old. In Minnesota, smoking wasn’t/isn’t that big of a deal. There was a smoking lounge in my high school for juniors and seniors, meaning for 16-18 year olds. I’ve blogged about it before (somewhere) but the reason I quit smoking, when I was in my 20’s I got sick, twice, once with a nasty lung infection, the second time with a full blown respiratory infection that almost killed me. I was in my late 20’s in the hospital fighting for my life. I’m ashamed to admit I’ve had maybe three cigarettes since then. Last time I smoked a cigarette was in 2012. One lone cigarette. On Aramis’s deck. Stupid. Moron.

Will I get lung cancer too? Maybe. But should that day come, I’ll let the cancer take me. No chemo. Nothing.

One of the hardest things watching a loved one fight for his life, is meeting wonderful new people. You, complete strangers, you don’t know the horror and strain I’m under on a daily basis watching my beloved dad fight for his life. What hurts the most is how badly dad wants to live. He wants to be with his wife, his kids, his grandkids. He wants to watch us grow old, all of us.           

I was walking into the Target, Northridge, that day when dad called me, told me Rick was diagnosed with a brain tumor. The wind instantly knocked out of me. I kneeled down on the sidewalk leading to the store’s front doors, doubled over, and trying to breathe. Moments later, this very nice guy stopped, and kneeled down next to me while I was still talking to my dad, he asked if I was ok. He asked if there was someone he could call for me. He was so kind. So worried. But there was no one. (I still think about that guy. I wonder who he was. How he’s doing. P.s. Thank you for caring!)

 I’m so exhausted.

Can’t imagine what my dad’s wife must be going through, this woman who has loved and taken care of my dad through better or worse. I adore this woman. Truly.

They say girls seek men like their fathers.

 If that’s true…

Love me while we’re together. Miss me when I’m gone. Love me when I come back. Unconditionally. That’s the only man for me. 

 

One day I'll meet you.