No, I’m not about to reveal some heretofore unknown affliction – I’m just fine, thanks for asking.
I don’t think of myself as having been involved in a lot of cancer drama, but when I look back on my life, I see a different pattern. My grandmother’s breast cancer, when I was still in grade school. My dad’s battle with prostate cancer that became one of our main topics of conversation for half a decade. The wildfire lung and liver cancer that took my granddad not too long ago.
And once again, I’m involved in that same long fight; once again, I’m on the sidelines – watching, cheering as much as I can, but ultimately more than a little helpless. My dad is back in the crosshairs, this time for something operable that’s hopefully been caught early and is easily excised.
Hopefully.
I’m starting to hate that word.
Awww! Virtual hugs for you and your dad!
So sorry to hear it :(
That really is an ugly ugly word, isn’t it?
Hope is a “four-letter word.” I have tasted its bittersweet so much that it has left its dregs in my throat, but I never mind sharing it.