I knew I was PMSing Friday morning. I was prepared for a shitty day. Got what I was expected, with the added bonus at the end — of finding out my father has prostate cancer.
I know, everyone’s sorry, everyone hopes he’ll pull through. Thank you. Let’s not all say it, though. I’ve been to The Cancer Dance before. It ended badly.* I know there have been advances. I know it’s a different time. I know it’s probably an early diagnosis. But I know cancer.
And I know two more things: I know what I’m made of, and I know it’s out of my hands.
As a result, there’s this remarkable calmness in the face of it right now. Don’t confuse that with me feeling good or being satisfied with this news. Sometimes you need to shut the fuck up about life and fight the fights, but don’t live the fight.
Dunno what else to tell you. Besides thinking on that, Halloween, and a couple other things, the last few days have just evaporated. It will be an interesting week. I’m taking some time on The Dad Front next weekend. Between now and then, I have a lot to take care of. It’ll be quite the rollercoaster week. Aren’t they all?
*I wrote once that, if I could choose between becoming the woman I am as a result of having lost my mother and keeping my mother dead, or resuming the girl I was at 25 before she died and having her be alive again, I, with great sorrow in my heart, would still choose to be the woman her death made me. Wherever this road leads, I’ll be better for it… because that’s the choice I, or you, can make: take something from every thing that happens to you — whether it stomped your heart on the floor or not. I almost lost Dad twice in the last three years. He’s a fighter. What else can ya do? We fight.