With Father's Day coming up, I've been thinking about my Dad. It occurred to me it was about this time of year ten years ago when I received the phone call from my Mom. I had only been in Ottawa about six months. Mom told me Dad had been diagnosed with prostate cancer. The doctors had told her it looked like the cancer was still in its early stages, which in prostate cancer is a very good thing. She told me not to worry, which is like telling someone
not to think about pink elephants. The spectre of the big C hanging over a loved one is a scary concept, indeed. I hated the fact I was over five hours away by car from them, which meant the amount of times I could be there for them was minimal.
My father had his options for treatment explained to him, and was advised the best option for survival was to have his prostate removed. I don't know how much more advanced the diagnostic equipment has gotten in the last decade, but back in '95 we were told the doctors wouldn't know if the cancer had metastasized to other parts of his body until he went in for the surgery on October 31st. The next few months were very difficult for all of us. I couldn't help but wonder, "Will this be the last Christmas we spend together?" Throughout this time, Mom was a pillar of strength for Dad, doing everything she could for him.
Finally the eventful day came. As his surgery was on Halloween, the staff joked with my Dad not to panic if he woke up and there were angels standing over him. My dad said he was fine with this, as long as he didn't wake up to see people from "the other place." The doctors advised us if they saw the cancer had spread, they would close my Dad up without removing the prostate and pursue other courses of treatment. The bottom line was, if they came out of surgery in less than half an hour, it was bad news. That was one of the toughest half hours of our lives. Luckily, the surgery went much longer than this and they successfully removed his prostate.
The recovery from the surgery was long and painful, but recover he did. Dad's been cancer free for almost ten years. I've observed a few times with my Dad that he's had to cope with diabetes, cancer, and even a heart attack. I then jokingly tell him he proves the maxim "only the good die young."
Every year during the United Way Campaign, I make sure to donate money to the Cancer Society, the Diabetic Association, and the Heart and Stroke Foundation. In a running gag, I e-mail Dad afterwards and tell him he can now put me back in his will. He replies, assuring me he has put me back in and his debts are now distributed equally. Corny, I know, but that's our family sense of humour.
I'm glad you're still around, Dad. You're a good guy. Keep on truckin'. In a year or so, we'll have one hell of a retirement party for you.
Love,
Your son.
