Current events

I'd say the most prominent, thinking time user-upper in my life right now is my dad. He, being the strongest, most reliable, knowledgeable, insightful, and loving person in my life, has been diagnosed with cancer. Renal cell carcinoma. That is kidney cancer. He is in the IV stage of IV stages and it has metastasized to his lymph nodes and encompasses a big vein (can't remember the name).

A month ago a doctor gave him 6 months to live without any treatment and up to 18 months to live with a drug that only promises to slow down the progression of cancer. A week ago he was approved to join a clinical trial using Interleukin-21, a possible cure. All other patients in the trial have had a nephrectomy (the removal of the kidney), but due to the cancer being spread out near his veins, surgery would be highly dangerous. So he is truly the guinea pig in this trial within a trial. The outlook is not wonderful, but he seems hopeful and ready to give it a go. He'll be in the hospital receiving the treatment for one week, two weeks off at home. Rinse and repeat. After two treatments they will scan the tumor and if it has shrunk, will continue. If it hasn't he will be put on the drug that slows the progression of the cancer and we will watch him go, something I never comprehended as even possible. The clinical trial will be no fun, the doctor told him to expect to feel as though he is experiencing the worst flu symptoms ever.

In the course of a the couple months that this has been revealed I have denied, cried, feared, and attempted to plan around all possibilities. What makes me feel even more jumbled is being in Idaho, 700+ miles from him. Trying to figure out a way to move my family, sell the house, and remain employed is more than overwhelming.

He has become, in my thinking, this fragile and sad story, this weak and scared person. Those are words I thought I'd never be able to use to describe my dad. I love him more than I could ever explain. I am terrified that I will not be able to remember his voice once he dies and have taken to saving all of his voice mails. My grandma died 5 years ago and I can't remember her voice. It is like a distant memory hanging off of a single neuron in my brain and I can't grasp it, although there is some sort of tasteless aftertaste of her voice, maybe the insistence in my mind that I couldn't have possibly forgotten. That makes me feel ridiculously guilty.

I know that people lose and die every day. But somehow my situation is selfishly more important and painful than anyone else's. I am scared to hug him, not sure what to say, and this is all new and somewhat incomprehensible.