This afternoon, I took a call from my biological father's doctor, who informed me that the spots seen on his liver a few months ago when he had a pacemaker installed were indeed cancerous, and were most likely metastasised from colon cancer.
It's been an interesting day since then.
I recognize that it should be devastating news -- that would be the normal response. But, our family is a little atypical, abnormal and dysfunctional. [Feel free to challenge me on that theory -- the more people I meet, the more I think that abnormal is the new norm.] It's just that I have so many questions about so many choices he made ... and, despite that, I desperately want to have a human and not an inhumane response.
Don't get me wrong. I have always been and continue to be a sensitive boy. I can distinctly remember being overcome with emotion when all the sheep died in that Little House on the Prairie episode when I was younger (and I remember it so distinctly because I was mocked for my emotions by wifey # 3 at the time). And it is slowly sinking in. As I ran errands this afternoon to distract my thoughts, I seemed to see old men everywhere. I even stood at the door of the 7-11 to hold it open for the man with the cane -- even though he was still halfway across the parking lot at the time.
Having lived just a few hours with the news, I think it hurts the most that it doesn't hurt more.
So what's next. I know that it is uncouth to prematurely eulogize someone. After all, the doctor did not provide a timeline for the disease's progression and we are a stubborn Prussian stock. In reality, he is in the best place possible -- a quality nursing home facility where he can be constantly watched, and which has a dedicated floor for hospice care. And, as he is nearly 90, the quality of his life really doesn't allow for any aggressive treatment like surgery or chemo. So if he's not yet in pain, why not just let him live out his last days in peace -- aiming for his four corners in Bingo or winning his occasional bumper bowling contest. Maybe now the clock starts ticking -- but, after all, the clock has really been ticking for each and every one of us -- including him -- since that first breath. I guess for some, it just gets louder in times like this when "advance notice" is provided.
And as for me (and, let's face it, it's really not about me right now, I know that -- but these posts are not just my creative outlet, or how I balance my sanity -- they can serve as therapy too) ... I've come to terms with the fact that I will always have lots of unanswered questions about the way my younger life played out. As I get older, I understand more about decisions that adults must face and the way that love can wane and wax and how stubbornness may allow you to survive but oft times in a very selfish way. I'll probably never be able to fully evaluate our relationship until I have my own child (and thanks to the example of Tony Randall, the genes of my father and the fine work of the folks at Pfizer, that's not even in my life plan until after I turn 50). So I'll just keep on processing, and I'll stay away from my Mike & the Mechanics "Living Years" cassingle, and I'll make it a point to commune a little more with nature (which, especially in spring, helps me get perspective on the whole circle of life idea).
I guess that's it for today ... other than, for those of you who indulged my random thoughts and read to the conclusion of this post ... we are accepting your prayers and well wishes at this time, and we thank you in advance for them.
