Watch Your Thinking Change

I found at last week that my dad's cancer has come back, after about 3 years of being in remission.

Now, the first time that I found out about my dad having cancer, I was beyond distraught. Standing at the threshold of death is both terrifying and other-worldy.

This is because we have almost convinced ourselves that we are somehow invincible, that if we distract ourselves with enough work or technology or nonsense, surely death will get lost in the busyness of it all. But when it does find you, let me tell you, it is the biggest and most sobering slap in the face. As John Mayer has once sang, "You know it's nothing new/ bad news never had good timing/ but then the circle of your friends/ will defend the silver lining."

And there is always a silver lining. What's the word for that? Oh yes, hope. Shall I pull out another quote? Yes, I shall: "Hope guides me, that is what gets me through the day and especially the night. The hope that after you're gone from my sight, it will not be the last time that I look upon you." (Thanks, A Knight's Tale).

We knew that my dad's cancer would come back, it was just a matter of when. I should confess that my dad is one of the lucky ones, finding a treatment that works well for him--a treatment that is not invasive, and has little side effects. But there will come a day when the treatment will no longer work (who knows when that is?)...when his body becomes immune and the cancer cells can no longer be outsmarted.

This, of course, is hard to think about and internalize.

Hello death, we meet again.

But this time, I am not distraught. The last cancer scare was a huge life weight to lift, and I have got some major spiritual, mental and emotional muscles on me now--I am all the more strong. The best I can do is shape my mind so that it no longer obsesses about the presence of death; rather, I vow to hold onto the presence of life while it's still here.

"Do not be afraid. I am the First and the Last." --Revelation 1:17

"Watch your thinking change."

I'm just in a thinking mood.

It's a little rainy today in SD, and that always puts me in a writing mood. And I absolutely adore the rain!

It was nice to get out this past weekend--I went to L.A. with my old roommate Ali to paint the town purple (which is better than red) and go to her aunt's 60th birthday party. I truly hope that when I'm 60 I can look back at my life and know that I lived it with gusto and passion.

Besides the birthday party, there was something else that happened over the weekend that got me thinking about life. Ali's cousin Tami, whom I've met and hung out with several times before, had tragedy strike her life. She lost her dad to a heart attack; she's only 20 years old. On top of that, Tami had already lost her mother 10 years ago. Obviously, this makes her an orphan.

I am so damn lucky to have my parents in my life still. So damn lucky. Especially when my dad had, and beat his cancer 2 years ago. So lucky. There are times in your life when you really learn to cherish that. This is one of those times.

Rejoice!

Awhile ago, I blogged about my dad and his cancer. Some of you may remember.

Amazing news: His cancer is gone. Which means, there are still some remains of it, but it is inactive.

This is crazy, and I'll tell you why. This is the type of cancer that was not supposed to be cured. It wasn't supposed to go inactive.

If you know someone with Non-Hodgkins Lymphoma, tell them about a treatment called Rituxan. Miracles will happen.

And people tell me there's no God.

Jubilee

So, my dad has been having these mild treatments for his cancer. He went four times in december (for three hours at a time).

And guess what? The treatment did what it was supposed to! You can't cure the kind of cancer my dad has, but you can shrink it down to a smaller size (basically control it/lay the smack down on it).

I feel like a LOT of weight has slipped off of my shoulders. Eventually he'll go back for more treatment...but it's comforting to know that the treatment will work :)

My heart is happy.

Sigh of Relief

I went to my dad's first cancer treatment today.

It wasn't as bad as I thought...it wasn't really anything like I thought.

You step into a room full of people with chairs and IVs in their veins, right? And you would think it would be kind of freaky, but it actually calms you down a little, cause you look around the room and realize, "hey! other people are going through this too."

My dad did wonderfully. No side effects. He's basically a champ.

I'm not gonna lie...I was scared out of my mind. Although a small percentage, they told us that 7/1000 people die with the very first injection. So of course, for the first hour you're on the edge of your seat wondering what could happen.

But things are calmer now for me. I know how this treatment stuff works now, and now, I just have to hope it does its magic on my dad's cancer. I believe it is quite possible.

Alright...

soooo. This is what's happening with my dad. His cancer is a slow-moving lymphoma. It's incurable. As opposed to the fast moving lymphoma that kills you, but can be treated. The slow moving lymphoma can be lived with for years...but he has to have check-ups every three months to see if it has spread. I guess they can still contian it with chemotherapy...but it can't be cured.

Sooooo, I'm not happy or sad about the news. Well, I guess I'm happy that it's not stage four cancer, cause that would have broken me in two.

I'm happy that I just know where we stand right now.

Putting it in Perspective

This has been the hardest week of my life. I don't think I have ever known a pain like this before. And it's a debilitating kind of pain.

I don't think I've ever cried so hard or so much...and in front of other people, too.

Man, if this week hasn't been a test, I don't know what is. But...

I feel much better than I did earlier on in the week. It's because of the people that surround me. Whether they are in Orange County, or a couple doors down. And of course, my dad pulls me through. I have faith that things are going to be alright. That no matter what, it will all be alright.

And so I'm off to church. It's sooooo necessary this week.

And the clouds parted a little...

I feel better now...and it's because of other people.

When I'm by myself, I think about it too much, and it eats away at me. But friends give me the strength.

I just have to work on making my dad smile. Cause he's strong, and he doesn't show it, but he's scared too.

!

I'm just kind of upset...and I don't know how to fix it...

how am I supposed to fix it???

Just like glass...

It's funny how life can be compared to a glass vase.

A beautiful glass vase that is so perfect and classic when it is first made. It is adorned with flowers, or put in a cupboard, protected by the walls that surround it. It seems untouchable, doesn't it?

And then, one day, the vase falls over, and you find a chip in it. And you are suddenly reminded, just how easily that vase can break. And it frightens you. What if the next time it falls...it breaks completely?
***
Even if my father were to die tomorrow, I have to say this. That when he breaks into a million little pieces, and my world feels like it is going to break too...I will just have to gather all those little pieces together, and keep them with me, and never throw them away. For what my dad has taught me, in the short 21 years I have been alive, will last with me all my life.

For my dad is the kind of man who has never been concerned with riches and reputation. He could have been the CEO of a prestigious business if he wanted. He has the stamina, courage and intelligence to do so. However, my dad is unique. He knows where real riches can be found--that that is with family and faith and love. And some might say that he gave up the chance to be the richest man in the world. To this he would reply "I already am the richest man in the world." And he has never shown me any less love than I deserve.

And I have not given up, but accepted that my dad and I will fight to the end. And even if the worst happens, I will always have his love and advice in my heart. And I will pass that on to my kids as well. My father WILL live on forever.

That is not to say that I am not worried or scared. I am! But I know that I am loved. And it is better to have had my dad in my life for 21 years than to never have had him at all.

...

My dad called me today and told me that the biopsy they did on his throat turned out to be cancer (he had a lump removed).

I'm not sure how to deal with these words as I write them...cause they're glaring at me right now, and piercing me straight through the heart.

It could be nothing...it could be something that can be removed. But I am afraid. I am a daddy's girl...and I refuse to lose my father anytime soon.

I don't know what else to say right now. I'm going to drive home, and try not to cry too much, and give my dad a hug. That's about all I can do. I feel better in the fact that I have support...from God, from friends. I'm just.............sad, right now. That's all.