During the last week of this past August my Dad found out he had Colorectal cancer. But as he awaited treatment details in the subsequent month and a bit since being diagnosed, the less dire everything seemed to be. His doctor’s weren’t rushing back to him with any news. And when they finally did, they were pretty confident their prescribed treatment — being major surgery — while still very serious, would eradicate the issue. I gathered he just wanted it over with. Dare I say it, we all did?
Then along came the day prior to Hallowe’en, the day of his surgery. While it ran long, it was successful. However his initial recovery was slow. And the following Tuesday morning, while involved in his “physio,” if I may label it as such, he had what his doctor labelled a “cardiac event.”
Please don’t get me wrong, I’m not looking to place blame on anyone. But everyone involved in his care after this occurring wasn’t entirely clear on what had happened. Or what was continuing to unfold. His doctor being chief among “everyone.” Point being, “why” is no longer a question I’m particularly interested in asking anymore. I’d much rather focus on the way in which my Dad handled things which he was dealt. Whether it was how he immediately put his entire life on hold when I needed an advocate, or how he passed from this world.
