Table for Nine

I left my father in a hospital room tonight, not knowing what the next few days will hold. More likely than not, his zeroed white blood count will rally and he will be back to his "new" normal self just in time for his next chemo treatment. More likely than not, now that we know he is susceptible to bottoming out, it won't be so bad next round. And, more likely than not, we will do this dance a few more times. But I am acutely aware that there will come a point in the not so distant future, that I will leave my father in a hospital room for the last time.. I know my father knows this is inevitable. And I know we both acknowledge that only God knows when this eventuality will take place. What my father doesn't know, doesn't realize, cannot even begin to grasp, is that I've been down this road before, not quite so involved, except for my heart, and this second time is tearing me apart.  I was 16 when I walked this road with my mother, when I watched her struggle and fight, and relatively quickly lose her battle with cancer. They were divorced then so he wasn't there, so he doesn't understand, couldn't know, the devastation I face when cancer looms so largely over his life and mine. I put on the face, I take care of business, I sign all the papers, make all the appointments, talk to the doctors...but inside, I'm ripped to shreds and by the grace of God, a good man who holds me fast, a family who hugs me tight, and friends who lift me in prayer, I manage to keep it all together.

I cannot imagine what my father is going through but helplessly, agonizingly, witnessing cancer's sure and steady march against him is excruciating for me. I simply cannot believe I have to go through this again...