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Again we fight

July 21, 2014

It’s time to write. I’ve had a little bit of time to think. Not process. Can you ever really process? I’ve just been thinking.

Earlier this year my dad officially went into remission with his cancer. He is to remain taking his chemo pills because his cancer is a wild type. The type that not threatens, but promises to return like a wicked villain in every movie. The only difference is there is no super hero to save him.

Last month my mom lost her job, their main source of income. He still works odd jobs because he isn’t a sit still guy. He likes to be doing something. You MIGHT get him to sit still if any of the following happen to come on TV, Bonanza, The Jerk, or Fast Times at Ridgemont High. They struggle but they’re coming up on 1 year of being RE-married. Last year on my dads birthday, August 25th, they did it again. This is just one of the ways my dad is always taking care of the people he loves. They divorced when I was 11 and my mom split. She was always looking for something. She’s a broken person, a sad person. My dad had exactly 2 girlfriends that I ever remember. Neither lasted long. He was a single dad with three little kids. It’s not like he had time, or money to wine and dine anyone. Deep down, I don’t think he wanted to either. When my little brother died in 2003 slowly but surely my mom just started moving into my dads house and before long, he was taking care of her again. Marrying her is a way to take care of her in the event he doesn’t make it. I have to believe in whatever the way is, that she must take care of him too.

Two weeks ago after his routine scan the results came back and the fact is the cancer is back. I wasn’t prepared for this. I knew it WOULD happen, I just didn’t think it would happen so fucking soon. I don’t know the prognosis. I don’t know anything other than the fact that it’s back. The man who had nothing to do with creating me as a human but everything to do with creating me as a person is sick again and I am helpless. But we again, we fight.

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