Okay, so I've been trying to avoid what's been going, though it's absolutely impossible.

I've tried writing, drawing and basically yanking the muse or any kind of inspirational creativity out of the air in order to block out what surrounds me.

It all feels so strange, so unreal, like something off the T.V.

But, though I do not want to face the reality of it all, I must.

Though my family has always, always driven me to the brink of insanity and I have always wanted to separate myself from them, I cannot do that now or in the near future.

I must stand beside my mother and siblings, watching as my father continues on with this slow torturous death. I have never, in my life, been surrounded by more Cancer than I am right now. The general talk, the discussions, the appearance, the smell, everything is all consumed with Cancer and death and all the optimism in the world is losing out to this ugly, horrendously mean disease.

In the past week there have been a few updates....

As you already know my father had kidney failure to begin with, previous to that he had, had 3 heart attacks and was dealing with emphysema.
So, yeah... kidney failure. He has been wearing bags on either side of him for the past two months now. They had to go in and rearrange things, otherwise, with the kidneys alone, he would've been dead in a week.

Along with the kidney failure, they diagnosed Stage 4 Bladder Cancer, which had moved to the rectum area. That was a given, as I had looked it all up and knew it would spread there first, thus the kidney failure.

Once they opened him up to deal with the kidneys, the Cancer spread. That, too, was already in the forefront of the mind, because what is it??? Once the air hits Cancer it spreads faster??? Or something like that. In any case, it did. Still optimistic at this point.

It then decided to jump to his colon. Okay, optimism took a huge blow, but it's still there and we believe in miracles, right?

Last week we were told that it is in his spine and I'll bet you can guess where it decided to go from there, since the spine is connected to his hips, legs, etc. Either way, still optimistic, but Cancer is winning at this point. I want to believe in miracles. I try my hardest to believe that he'll be able to get up and walk, go into rehab and be able to come home for a bit.

Two days ago we were informed that the Cancer is in his bones.
Optimism and miracles - 0, Cancer - 1.

There is no, absolutely no possibility that the doctors will be able to do anything for him, to give him more time than what we were initially told (6 months to a year). Now, it could be anywhere from a couple weeks to a month.

He is currently losing a pound a day. Trying to eat, but still losing a pound a day.

His weight, in two months, has gone from 163, down to 137, down to 132, down to 132, down to 114, and as we stand as of last night, 113.

We were also told that because of the Cancer his bones are degenerated, brittle and getting worse. Which means, a slight misstep, fall or what have you will cause him to break like glass.

He no longer looks like the father I knew, like any of us knew. What we see is the face of Cancer, a haunting, sunken, sallow appearance. He is on so many high powered drugs that at times when you look at him, he is staring at you, but not seeing you. He is looking through you. It is the creepiest stare I have ever seen. At times he does not even realize who is in the room, because of the drugs and because he is so exhausted and in so much pain.

I can feel it. I can almost see it. But I don't want to believe it. I some how want to make it stop, flip it, turn it around, but I know death is coming. It's coming to quickly. Before it was this light airy thought that entered the room, in which we gently pushed away.
Now, it is heavy, thick and will not budge. It is stubborn, relentless and refuses to leave. It is there when we visit him, it is there when we are home, discussing him, always there and I so badly and very angrily, want to scream, tell it to go away, it's not time, please not yet. Please don't take him yet.

I am angry at my father because Cancer does not go from Stage 0 to Stage 4 just like that and at some point I knew that he knew something was wrong and he didn't say anything. This could have been dealt with sooner. All this pain and torture did not have to take place.
I want to scream at him. Scream till I'm hoarse and can't scream anymore, but then I also want to beg and plead, please don't go. Please don't go.

You would think it's different, knowing what the outcome will be, compared to not knowing and having it happen out of the blue. It's not. It feels , almost, worse. Some part of you, deep inside, keeps saying, there's still a chance that he'll live longer because he's still here, he's still trying to eat, trying to move and being stubborn as hell.
But you know. The knowing brings this tremendous pain unlike any other you've ever felt and if you feel this much pain, what can he possibly feeling knowing his life is coming to a quicker end than was first thought?

I believe wholeheartedly that somewhere out there, there is a cure for Cancer, that it has been around for quite some time, but you have to either be tremendously rich in order to get it or it's being kept secret.
Because if such a cure were to be brought forth, the medical community would lose money and they don't want to do that.

You don't have to agree with me. I understand. But that is what I believe. It is almost 2009 and it's crazy to think that we don't have a cure or a better way to deal with Cancer.

Thank you for reading.

K.