Father’s Day came and went with not much excitement for me, which seems a little strange.  I woke up that morning with expectations of a fun, relaxing day.  A day that was “mine.”  Unfortunately, I never quite got into a “Father’s Day groove.”  I certainly got paid enough attention – and gifts! – but I just felt more and more hollow as the day went on.  Maybe I expected too much from a day that has become bittersweet around our household.  Vicki and her sister, Alisa, miss their dad tremendously, and his death – as I mentioned in a prior post – left a significant hole in our lives.  For me, knowing that my dad can’t really celebrate “Dad’s Day” because of my mom’s continuing downward spiral with dementia also makes this day both frustrating and sad.  I can’t even begin to understand the emotional turmoil my dad faces when he wakes up each morning.  This day, for him, has become just like every other.

I even felt sad that my children did not give me personalized Father’s Day cards.  Along with my presents – and another carrot cake! – I got a nice card, signed by everyone in the family.  I began to feel jealous that for Mother’s Day Vicki got cards from the kids.  Cards with heartfelt messages about what a great mom she is.  (And she is!)  Do they not care about me?  Have I not been a good father?  Gee, do they understand that I have cancer?  I got myself tied up in knots more and more as the afternoon became early evening.  Finally, I was tired of mentally berating myself, and I just went to bed.

Having this sword hanging over my head has, at times, been more than I can bear (almost).  I have seriously thought that Vicki and the kids would be better off without me.  That my prolonged existence, while an obvious good thing, simply means that my “turn for the worse” has been delayed and will eventually come sometime in the near future.  Maybe it would be better to have it end, now, so that everyone can grieve and then move on with their lives.

It’s an incredible emotional roller coaster that I am on, and I need to acknowledge – to myself – that there will be good days and bad days.  Perhaps having Father’s Day come right before my next scan made me a little too introspective.  I do not feel sick, and I don’t anticipate a “bad report” next week.  It’s the uncertainty, however, that continues to reek havoc with my psyche.

As always, thanks for listening…

Am I blue?  I kind of look a little orange.

The latest on my melanoma…Continuing to sound like a broken record, but there’s nothing new to report at this time.  My health situation has not changed – although I’m getting fatter and lazier by the day.  The initial summer heat and humidity have put the clamps on my outdoor activities.  It will take time – like it did last summer – to get used to the heat, again.  On June 18th, I have a full PET scan to ensure that the cancer has (a) not moved to other parts of my body and (b) the remaining tumors in my right lung have not gotten any larger.  It’s always a time of tremendous stress because there are so many unknowns, and, frankly, I don’t want any new problems cropping up.  We’ll get the results back the following day, June 19th, so I’ll communicate that to anyone who is still interested.  I know I will likely never be “cured,” but I’d like some reassurances that this “beast” inside of me has gone away, once and for all.