Dad has developed some sort of an infection or another blockage. He is back in the ER at Sloan and going in for another CAT scan. He's had so many CAT scans, I half expect him to open his mouth and meow.
We're trying to marshall our forces for the next round of chemo, but our forces have yet to heed the call. Our troops are AWOL. Dad has lost a tremendous amount of weight; he's past my pre-pregnancy weight and pushing toward my wedding day weight. Those were the days when I was known as Connie-Please-Have-A-Sandwich or Bride-Of-Skeletor. Yikes.
But he's trying. He's trying to eat. He's trying to drink. He's trying to move around, but it's so damned hard. Everything is getting so damned hard for him. It's frustrating.
It's INFURIATING!!! I want this disease to go away! I saw an article on "60 Minutes" about a guy who invented inhalable chocolate and I wanted to scream at the television, "Clearly you are a bright man! Go use your talent to cure cancer! Stop f^*#ing around with inhalable chocolate!"
But, of course, that doesn't help.
And at least, with inhalable chocolate coming to the market, cancer patients who can't eat can still get a taste of something sweet.
Or so the inventor claims.
Harumpf.
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