March 17, 2009

Generally, I would spend St. Patty’s day doing something with my dad. This year is the exception. I’m sitting at home pondering every scenario, good and bad; going over statistics that don’t seem to make a lot of sense. The ones that do, I keep hoping don’t apply. This is the first time I’ve ever had to consider my father not being a part of my everyday life. It’s tearing me apart little by little. Sometimes I’m ok, I don’t cry, I don’t dwell. Other times out of nowhere I feel like the air around me is too thick to breathe and I can’t stop thinking about the what if… I’m beginning to feel cheated, along with angry and confused. I think it might be a good thing because it’s keeping me from being quite so broken. Hopefully tomorrow we’ll hear more from the doctor and at least have some sort of plan in place. Right now we’re all just kind of hanging on by a thread with the not knowing, but the possibility of treatment has everyone a little more relaxed. I talked to our dad late this evening. He seems to be in better spirits and more hopeful than before, which makes it easier to talk to him normally. I try to be strong and not cry in front of him, or mom. They don’t need to know how bad this really hurts. I’m trying to put on a strong face.