You know I'm a fan of Living with cancer. Not only living with vs. dying from, but I mean truly Living, experiencing life to the fullest. That's why I wanted to take Marcie with me to Paris earlier this year, why I've wanted to run half-marathons at a pace I would have been embarrassed about not long ago, and why I've tried to be a better dad, more present, more involved.
Living with cancer has its downsides, too. It means not using cancer as a excuse when unpleasant things lie in your path. Case in point - I'm writing this from Room 686 at Piedmont Hospital, where my father has been a resident since last Wednesday. He'd fallen 3 times in a week, despite having his walker next to him. Turns out he has a condition called Congestive Heart Failure, which sounds much more imminently deadly than it is. In fact, he's had it for two years now, which was news to me. But that's a story for another day.
He's doing better and will leave here for a two to three week stay in a rehab facility to regain his strength. The unpleasant part is what comes next. The doctors have told him it's no longer safe for him to live on his own. He's 84 years old, has lived in his current house for 40 years and, understandably, doesn't want to leave.
We've been building the case with him for the last 2 years, and even have him on the wait list at a nearby community that offers both independent and assisted living options. (Waiting lists in a place like that are a rather morbid concept when you think about it.) I want it to be his decision, his choice. But I have to be prepared to make the decision for him, for his own good. It's one of those child-becomes-the-parent situations, and it sucks. Fortunately, I have Marcie and my sister to help.
It can be a bit depressing, watching your parents age less than gracefully. And it's hit me pretty hard of late. But that's part of life, and part of the price I have to pay if I want to keep on Living.
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