Some of you may have been following this thread, in which I talked about my father-in-law’s recent admission into the hospital.
He was scheduled to have tests done Saturday evening around 6, so we were surprised to receive a call from a him about twenty to eight, saying he was home from the hospital.
They found three spots on his lungs and say it’s cancer. Several years ago he had colon cancer, of a type they called a “wild” cancer, in that it can spread.
The doctors have given him six months to live.
I am very upset, not only for myself but also for Ivylad and our children, who adore him. But I find myself experiencing another emotion.
Fury.
I pit you, dad, for giving up. The man is still smoking, and has already discussed with mom selling the house and the car, to make her life simpler. Lots of things can happen in six months. Mom’s brother’s wife was given three months to live seven years ago. Dammit, she fought. She got through chemo and even went back to work. She’s weaker now, but she gave her husband and her children another seven precious years.
So why the hell do you think you can just sit back, puffing on those damn cigarettes, and start telling mom what she should do? Why aren’t you fighting for life? You were in the Air Force, you decrypted intercepted messages, and you were a police officer. You love trains and the Ohio State Buckeyes. Opening and operating a pub in Scotland would be your absolute dream come true. You like to go to garage sales with Mom, and selling your finds on E-bay.
Let me tell you, Dad, it’s not about just you anymore. It’s about six grandchildren. It’s about a wife who just retired a year and a half ago and the traveling you have yet to do. It’s about three grown children and their respective spouses. You don’t get to give up, dammit! We still need you. You need to see your eldest grandchild graduate from high school in about four years. You need to dance at your youngest granddaughter’s wedding. You don’t get to give up just because the doctors said “six months.”
The part that really scares me is that I’ve never had a close family member die. I don’t know how to help Ivylad, and I don’t know what to do in the face of his father apparently resigning himself to the fact that he’s not going to be around to see another Ohio State game. I don’t know why he doesn’t want to fight.
I’m sorry, I can’t type anymore.