So Dear Old Dad called yesterday and mumbled something -- a couple of times -- about the possibility that the prostate cancer he was diagnosed with five years ago and for which he has been treated numerous times is now "running amok."
It may have "escaped containment," he says.
This cancer has killed my grandfather and four of my dad's five uncles.
Dear Old Dad would *never* mention a "possibility" unless it was quite serious. This is what I fear anyway.
But then, to complicate things, I have been wishing he was dead. Actually, I've been wishing both of my parents were dead. But if I had my druthers, my mom would go first.
You have to know my family history for this to make any sense. But let's suffice it to say: NO, I am *not* a cold, heartless bitch and ungrateful child. I'm just looking for a little congruence between practical realities and technical ones.
Seriously, the mother in this case should go first. Not the father. The father has been showing signs of some redeeming qualities over the past few years. But then, maybe that's because he has known for a while that his time is limited.
Life is so fucking complicated. I don't actually want my dad to die. I just want him to learn to be a dad.
He may be getting there. At the end of our conversation, he actually said, "I love you." Not once (which is rare enough) but twice (which is downright suspicious).
Why are fear and greed the only real motivators for change? Why isn't love enough?
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