“Cancer”. The word rolled off the doctor’s tongue unsympathetically. A cold shiver ran down my spine. In that moment, time came to a halt. I felt as if I couldn’t breathe, as if I was falling, and would never stop.
“Mr. Sanders,” the doctor began again, “You have pancreatic cancer, which has spread to your kidneys.” A tear ran down my face, glistening in the bright light of the white room. My father, not surprisingly, remained strong.
“I am so very sorry Mr. Sanders; there is nothing we can do. We didn’t catch the cancer early enough.” The falling sensation increases as I start to feel dizzy.
“You have about 3 and a half months to live”. The falling stopped; I had slammed into the ground of the seemingly endless pit. Tears are streaming down my face, but I didn’t noticed. I couldn’t feel anything, my body was numb.
My father looked at the doctor with a straight face, no words escaping his relaxed mouth. After a few minutes of silence, my father asks, “So Doc, if there is nothing you can do, what can I do?” “Well,” replied the doctor, “The best we can do is recommend ways to make your home more comfortable, especially when your cancer worsens. We recommend you have a registered nurse stop by the house every so often to check on you.”
At this, my father stood, shook the doctor’s hand and said thank you. He looked at me, silent with tears streaming down my face. “Don’t worry Maddie, it will be alright” he said softly. He helped me out of the chair I was sitting in, whispering “It will be ok” in my ear. We slowly made it back to the car.
The half hour car ride home was quiet. I was thinking, and I suppose he was too. He has always been simple man, never saying more than he needed to. I wonder if that was what led to my parents’ divorce. My mother moved to Brooksville, while my father stayed in Oakdale. They live about 40 minutes away from each other, but my school is in between. I shuffle between my mother’s and father’s house every week, and alternate summers. It just so happened that this summer I was spending with my dad.
When we arrived home, we remained in the car, silent. After a while, he turned the car off and turned to me. “Maddie, we all have to… pass sometime.” he said. “Don’t worry, I will be ok.” I looked at him and said “Dad, you’re dying of cancer. Everything is not ok.” My dad looked at me straight in the eyes, giving me the look that let me know that he was about to say something important. “Look Maddie, we can be sad and cry about my cancer, or we can have the best three and a half months we can. I choose the second option, and I hope you do too.” I had to smile at this, at how positive a person can be after being told their dying of cancer. “I hope I do too.” I say. My dad and I got out of the car, and started to walk into the house. We talked for another two hours before we called my mom.
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“Dad, the nurse is here!” I shouted, as I opened the door to my dad’s house. “Hello Nancy, how are you?” I say, trying to sound as positive as possible. My dad was approaching the 3 and a half mark of his cancer. He had become much weaker, mostly sleeping in the hospital bed the nurse had set up. He was still happy though, always telling jokes and making me laugh.
“I’m doing well, but how is your dad?” Nancy replied. “Same as he was yesterday.” I answered “He’s still going strong.” At this, Nancy smiled, saying “Excellent” numerous times as she walked down into the hallway. My dad would never let me be in the room when the nurse was checking on him. He didn’t want me to worry about him, and I tried not to.
After about a half hour, Nancy walked out of the room. “Amazingly, he seems to be getting better. Good work Maddie.” she said as she grabbed her equipment. I’ll be back again in a couple of days, and remember call me if he gets worse.” I walked into his room and gave him a high five. “I passed again Maddie,” he said as he smiled.
After a week of getting better, his health started to slowly decline. He lost a lot of energy, and was sleeping a lot more. When I walked into his room, he looked at me, and said “Call your mother. You need someone else to take care of you.” “But Dad,” I started to protest, “I am not leaving you. Can I at least ask her to come here?” My dad looked at me doubtfully. “Irene would never do that.” “Well, I’m still asking” I replied. And to me and my father’s surprise, my mother agreed to come.
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I was woken by at 2 am by the sound of an ambulance pulling up to my house. I sprung out of bed and ran to my father’s room. My mom was there, helping my father get comfortable. “The nurse suggested he go stay in the hospital a couple days ago. Maddie, I’m sorry, but he’s getting worse.” I looked at my dad, who looked at me. For the first time, I saw true pain on his face. “Alright” I said, helping my mom pack for the hospital.
A few weeks after, my father died. He went peacefully, with my mother and I by his side. At his funeral, I delivered the eulogy.
“I remember the day when we learned he had cancer” I began. “He was remarkably strong and positive, and he remained that way until he passed.” I was silent for a moment, thinking about all the memories from the past months. “My father was given three and a half months to live. He made it to four months and twelve days, and I am proud of him.” I stepped down from the podium and turned to go back to my seat. Walking back to the church pew, I looked up, smiled, and said “four months and twelve days.”
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