A Little More Personal and A Little Less Fashionable

I'm a born thinker. Think think think, I think about all sorts of things and overanalyze things. Sometimes that's a good thing, sometimes it's bad. In this case, I'm thinking futuristically, realistically, and maybe a little medically.

I found out recently that for the past six years my dad has been battling Hodgkin's disease. I had absolutely NO idea, not until my mom told me. It hit me like a huge sack of bricks; hit me in the heart, in my mind, and in my soul. At first, I didn't want the tears to fall. I wanted to build a virtual Hoover's Dam to stop them from falling. Why? For the same reason my dad didn't tell me or my sister what he was going through. Pride. I hate crying in front of people. I don't care who you are; I don't care if you're the one who brought me into this world -- I HATE APPEARING WEAK! That's probably why it was at first so strange to hear that my dad battled something so horrendous. He's my father. He's 6'4", about 250 pounds, works out everyday -- he's big and burly, and my whole life I was jealous of the fact that he was healthy as a horse. I would experience the common cold for a week while his would clear up in about 12 hours. I was speechless when I found out about how he had this disease and how he was going through chemotherapy yet I had NO clue whatsoever. I couldn't recall a time when he seemed weak or feeble or terribly nauseous. And his entire life, he cut his hair short, so even if he lost hair from chemo I wouldn't be able to tell the difference.

Right now, according to my mom, he is in remission, which is a good thing of course. This is when I get to thinking. Cancer can always come back. Some people think that every little fucked up cell is cleared up because of the chemo, yet for some reason it can always creep back up so unexpectedly. I'm scared sometimes when I think about my dad. I'm scared to think that, what if he dies before my first wedding, before I graduate from college or even high school? Death and disease have always been two difficult things to grasp. All of my grandparents have died from medical ailments, three of them from cancer. I don't want my kids to not have a grandpa to tell them stories about the good ol' days and play catch with them and be senile yet funny at the same time. I want my kids to be close to my parents because I was never close to any of my grandparents. When I think about my dad, I think about the future. When I think about my dad, I think about losing him permanently.

When I think about my dad, I think about me. I think about preparing myself for the worst.