Control

My dad has lung cancer.

It's hard just writing that sentence, but it's even harder living with what it means. When he was first diagnosed, we were told that surgery wasn't an option given his other medical issues; neither was chemotherapy. But since the tumor is small, we were told, radiation was a good option and there was a high probability that he'd recover completely.  It seemed as if all of his other medical issues were so much worse than the cancer, that the cancer would be a walk in the park.  That's how the doctors made is sound - treatable, with a high probably of full recovery. In contrast, his congestive heart failure and diabetes were much more to be concerned about.




Then Dad got sick, and the cancer was pushed to the background to deal with the more pressing and more serious sickness. He recovered; in fact, he is healthier now than he was before. He's better able to withstand the cancer treatment. So much so that now surgery is an option.

What the fuck?!  I never considered surgery, it had never been talked about, and now suddenly, there's going to be an operation?!

Last weekend had been good; I'd spent time with my son, got things crossed off my to-do list and posted two (fucking awesome) stories. I'd put my son to bed Sunday night and was on my laptop, catching up with my friends on Twitter. Out of nowhere and for an instant, I pictured myself typing, "Daddy didn't survive the surgery. He's gone."

And in that moment, in the second or two it took for those words to run across my mind, I lost whatever self-control I had been holding onto.  I don't cry - I suck it up and move on. But I cried. For three hours. My eyes hurt and my throat hurt and my lungs hurt and my back hurt and my heart broke. Blindly, I wrote an email to one of my best friends, telling him I'm not ready to lose my dad, that I'd rather die than see him die and a whole bunch of other emotional shit. It's a damn good thing I can type blind because I couldn't see anything through the tears.

I'm all about self-control. Keeping a reign on my emotions - I deal with what I need to, when I need to, and don't let my emotions run amuck.  Normally. Thank God for friends - I've one that talked me back from the ledge on more than one occasion.  He distracts me and helps me refocus on things I can do, like plan a family dinner this weekend, ie Thanksgiving

Dad goes in for surgery on Tuesday, and I have absolutely no fucking control over what happens. I'm trusting his life to some fucking stranger with a knife. I don't care if he is the great-grandson of a former US President; he doesn't inspire confidence. But Mom and Dad trust him, and I have to believe that they are capable of making that kind of decision. I'm scared and worried and unable to do a fucking thing to make anything better.

I'm back in control of myself, for the most part. It's tenuous, but there. I am a firm believer in self-control and self-determination. I choose, as much as a person is able, what happens and what doesn't happen in my life. Things don't normally just happen to me. I don't allow that. Yes, circumstances present themselves, but it is the way I react to them, how I choose to deal with them, that is important to me.

I  hate that my dad is sick. I want to call his surgeon and threaten him - just so he knows how important it is that he NOT FUCK UP. This is MY father whose life he controls at the moment.

Okay, gotta go before I lose it again.