Fear the Crab

I think my dad is leaning towards radiotherapy. He seems willing to take chances on the possible side effects for what the doctor calls a “more complete procedure” that gives greater chance of cure. My dad would rather undergo radiation treatment than risk any microscopic cancer cells coming loose during surgery and entering his bloodstream.

I don’t know how much of it is seriously true, or how much is a radiologist looking for his next paycheck.

Still, in this case, it’s the results that matter. If this can give my father the best chance of survival, we ought to take it.   In addition, I’m fairly positive that with the number of physicians who are giving my dad good odds on beating this thing, he’s going to start believing it himself.  Mind over cancer matter, and all that.

The first day he told me he had cancer, my dad started off by saying, “I’m dying.”  My first reaction wasn’t the norm, I suppose, because I immediately thought, “Well… yeah.  We all are.  So?”  Instead of voicing it and earning looks from my mom, I let him continue, and he told me of the situation.

Looking back, my dad had already resigned himself to a quick and dirty fate.  I think the latest round of “good possibilities” should alter his mindset and help him sincerely believe he will get better.

* * *

Broken water main on my street last night.  Board of Water Supply tapped into the reserves so we could all take showers, so good on them.  However, they were making repairs all throughout the early morning, and the heavy equipment and constant construction did not make for a pleasant sleep.  Still, good on them for the fixing.