Merely mortal.

I got that phone call last night that no one ever wants to get. My dad has been having problems with indigestion and whatnot for quite a while now. As a matter of fact, I just assumed it was a genetic thing since I have constant problems with my stomach as well. We’ve both been heavy drinkers in our time – though my dad largely went off the sauce years and years ago – and I just always assumed that was the root of our stomach ailments.

Well I guess in the past year or so it’s gotten really bad with my dad so his doctor sent him in to have one of those lovely experiences where they stick a camera down your throat and get a really good look. The doctor figured it must be an ulcer and he wanted to pinpoint its location so he could best figure out how to treat it.

Only the doc didn’t find an ulcer. He found a tumor.

So now my dad has to go in for more tests so they decide if they need to operate to remove it or if chemotherapy will be better. Chemo-FUCKING-therapy! Why would my dad need chemo? He’s not that sick, right? RIGHT?

Okay…okay….if it sounds like I’m freaking out a little it’s because I am. I’m sure my dad will pull through and be fine but it did make me begin to face the fact that one day my dad won’t be fine and then he’ll be gone. To carry that thread further, I realize I’m like my dad in a lot of ways. Some of them are good and some of them are bad but we definitely seem to share a very similar temperament and maybe it’s because of that identification that him possibly being sick scares me even more. Because then I think of the chances of me getting sick too. I mean, if my dad can develop a tumor when he doesn’t smoke and barely drinks what can I expect to be nurturing somewhere in my nicotine-addled bourbon-drenched system?

Anyway, this was supposed to be a light-hearted entry about what a great time Photogal, Rudy, Rick, Josh and I had last night but I guess this news sort of eclipsed that playful romp. The funny thing is that I got this news last night but it didn’t really sink in until this morning as little old ladies and semi-drivers were cutting me off, raising my blood pressure and transmitting more oxygenated blood to my brain forcing me to think a little harder than I probably would, early on a Friday morning…