And so, here we are, nine months later. Does it feel like nine months to you? I think it feels like nine minutes and ninety years.
How is Dad?
He's doing well. Really well. Almost embarrassingly well.
"I thought your dad was sick," people hiss in my ear at parties. I watch Dad boogie past, doing his super special Lindy-Mashed Potato-Saturday Night Fever- Hand Jive and shrug. "That's what they keep telling him. He just won't play the part."
He went to Vermont and helped set the buoys in Lake Morey ("I drove the boat," he proudly declared.).
He went back to help rip the roof off the porch ("and nobody got hurt!" he proudly declared).
He rocked it out so hard at a recent wedding, my sources tell me he giggled himself to sleep and then had the Grand High Master of all Hangovers the next day.
Well Done, Dad.
He had a bad bout of pain in April, which gave us all a bit of a fright. A series of emergency scans revealed...a kidney stone. We all hooted and hollered and cheered for the kidney stone while Dad piped up from the corner, "excuse me, but it still HURTS! ".
We were sort of heartless and told him to tough it out, and he did, which was quite decent of him.
Of course, it's not all posies and parties - this is life in the world of cancer and chemo, after all.
He has days when he is wiped out.
He has days when he feels really crappy.
He has days when he gets really frustrated that basic activities - things we all take for granted, like being able to go out to dinner - sometimes seem out of reach.
But his moods are a bit like a superball - they drop and then bounce back up and he's off and running once again.
His next round of scans is scheduled for July. We expect (nay - demand!) another set of positive results, and that he will spend a good chunk of the summer teaching the grand kids to swim in the lake and the pool (if it ever stops raining and gets warm).
We are, as always, astonished and humbled by the continued outpouring of support we have received. The prayers and good wishes of our friends and family help give Dad the strength to get up every day and say, "No way, cancer. You won't get me today. I will fight. I will survive." (I feel a disco ball and a Gloria Gaynor song coming on. Let's go, people. You know the words. Let your inner 1970's Disco Diva run free, strap on your roller skates with your Adidas knee socks and sing along!)
"Oh no not I!
I will survive!
Oh, as long as I know how to love, I know I'll stay alive!
I've got all my life to live,
I've got all my love to give,
and I'll survive... I will survive!
< and we're off, discoing into the summer sunset >