What a Winter

This is the worst Winter that I can remember. Not because the weather is bad, but because my father died. He had cancer.

My father was diagnosed just a few months ago and there was no treatment to offer him due to his already frail condition. The drs rightly determined that the standard treatments such as chemotherapy, radiation, and surgery would cause him more harm than it would help. He was already skin and bones, and there was a large inoperable tumour on his liver. The decision was made for him to enter the hospice.

When diagnosed with cancer, my father had been sick from various other ailments, most notably COPD (emphysema), for a couple of decades. His condition had deteriorated to the point where he needed to receive oxygen 24 hours a day. Although he could walk, his COPD condition had greatly limited his ability to walk for the last two decades. That is what you get for smoking for 70 years.

Yes, 70 years. When my father died he was a few days short of his 83rd birthday. Although he FINALLY quit smoking a few years ago, he had been smoking since he was 10 years old. He REALLY liked smoking and he refused to give it up until he was too frail to go to the store to buy cigarettes. Not even the COPD encouraged him to quit.

20 years ago, just before coming to live with me, my father developed a tumour on his lung. I remember the Dr was amazed at the size and was quietly grim as he ordered a bunch of tests. It turned out to be a miracle. At least that is what the Dr claimed when he informed us that the tumour was benign. My father had beat the odds.

You would think that would be a good time to quit smoking as not many people have such a lucky chance. Nope. My father kept smoking away without a care in the world. He enjoyed his cigarettes. That benign tumour never moved, either. It just sat there waiting and doing nothing. Well, it did do something. Every time my father sought medical care for something, the Drs would freak out at the sight of that tumour. This one time, my father slipped on the ice breaking his hip. That was a bother, but what the hospital REALLY cared about was that tumour.

In the end, that benign tumour stayed benign. What got him was an aggressive form of colon cancer that quickly metastasized to his liver. My father was ok with that. He believed that he had lived his life all the way to the end. And he did.

This is a 100% POWER UP! post