Tag Archives: cancer

For Dad, On Mother’s Day

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Dad has officially kicked Stupid Cancer in the ass and I wanted to share my ecstatic relief with the world in more than just a Facebook status. I hope this blog helps you understand why losing him to Stupid Cancer was not an option. I love you Dad!

My dad taught me that if you put salt on your drink napkin at restaurants, then your glass won’t stick.

He’s a pretty handy guy like that. He can fix anything, even if it’s not broken. You know that movie quote about a guy who’s lost in the woods only needing a pocket knife and a toothpick to be able to build a shopping mall? Yeah, that’s my dad. He probably wouldn’t even need the toothpick.

He used to be really good at carrying heavy things, but his back is now just as bad as mine and his strong arms that have moved me in and out of shitty apartments have been replaced by whoever is trying to date me (or vice versa) at the moment.

He’s taught me how to fish. More importantly, he taught me how to get away with reading a magazine in the boat while he fishes.

He’s taught me a lot of “reals”. Like what a real gentleman should be—and do and say and not do and not say. What a REAL handshake and hug should feel like.

He taught me how to appreciate good food. Notably—freshly caught fish v. frozen, medium steak v. well done, and homemade barbeque sauce and honey mustard v. packaged. He taught me how to recognize the taste of venison when it’s snuck into food, looking and acting like beef. He taught me how to cut meat properly.

My dad taught me that it can always be worse—you could be shot at or bitten by a rattlesnake or have to frantically jump off a hotel balcony half-naked. He taught me to “get a helmet” and “poop in one hand, wish in the other and see which one fills up faster”. He taught me sarcasm.

He taught me what kind of boys to bring home and what kind of boys to avoid. By watching the way he treats my mom, he’s taught me what kind of husband I want. By experiencing the way he treats me, he’s taught me what kind of father I want for my children.

He has TRIED to teach me about politics, cars, the military, and history. I have retained about 1% of that information. Sorry Dad.

He taught me not to put up with anybody’s shit.

He taught me that anyone can be a father, but it takes someone really special to be a dad.

He’s taught me so much over the years and I know that he’ll continue to teach me for many, many more years.

Thanks for being so strong Daddy. You couldn’t have given Mom a better Mother’s Day gift this year!

The C Word

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Cancer is that thing you hear about- on TV, movies, or from friends about friends of friends. You never think it’ll be you or YOUR parents. And if it is, you imagine it’ll just be a scare or a simple, no-brainer, caught it early type deal.

My dad is my stepdad, as most people know. Although once, at a wedding, a man said, “This your daughter? I can tell, you have the same smile.” Me and dad looked at each other and grinned. If he meant we both had lips and teeth, well sure. But dad is a 60-something Santa look-alike with baby blue eyes and a Texan tattoo.

Anyway, I obviously love the guy with all my heart and up until now, I kind of thought he was invincible. My parents, lovely tight-lipped haoles, thought it’d be best to wait until I was home for Christmas to tell me that Dad has prostate cancer.

Big mistake. 1. I’d just spent 12 hours on a plane. 2. Of course I’m going to be pissed that the whole damn family knows except me. 3. Dad made me think he was giving me a present.

Let me explain #3. Mom’s usually the one who buys me gifts, unless it has to do with technology or cars in any way. This is rare, since those things are usually expensive, and this is when Dad takes over. Whenever this happens, he’s like a small child. He cannot wait to give me the gift and he pesters Mom until she says, “Ok, fine!” This is exactly how he was acting all day. I was like, hell yeah, I’m about to get a new laptop or a kindle! What an extreme opposite to a gift.

At that point, I was bawling, yelling, and getting away with cussing all at the same time. Total psychotic episode. That is the only time in my life that my parents haven’t severely scolded me for saying “fuck.”

I was pissed that they hadn’t told me, but I was even more pissed that Dad hadn’t taken action yet. He has some great points and explanations about “his plan,” but I don’t really care. I’d rather the doctors chop off the entire lower half of his body if it meant he’d be alive longer. I don’t care that it’s his body and I don’t care about the nasty side effects. However, I apparently don’t get an opinion on my dad’s genitals. Go figure.

I realized that for them to sit me down and tell me this—and for Mom to be crying while they did so—this was obviously a lot more serious than Dad was letting on. They’ve both had cancer scares before. Dad even had to have a kidney removed. But those times either a) really weren’t that big of a deal, b) they were much better liars back then, or c) I was a naïve idiot. I’m going to go with a mix of all three.

Dad will probably not like that I wrote all this but… the way I see it, I need to cover all bases. I don’t pray. But I admit that I very well could be wrong about this God character. I’m probably not, but just in case, I need as many people out there who DO pray to pray.

If you don’t know my dad very well and you’d like to make your prayer more personable, here are some solid facts you’re welcome to use:

  1. Dad’s middle name is LeRoy. He despises it and using it to his face WILL get you a death glare.
  2. Dad loves Obama, vegetarian foods, marijuana, and Diet Coke. He wants to outlaw guns and move somewhere more his style, like L.A. He wishes he could spend more time at the beach, shopping, or volunteering in Africa with Hilary Clinton.
  3. He is the utter opposite of #2.
  4. Dad likes to seem tough, and he definitely can be. But at heart, he’s a complete teddy bear who cried when I wrote him a really cheesy poem once.
  5. Fishing, poker, and television crime shows. Obsessed.
  6. He has never treated me like a “stepdaughter”—I don’t really know what that even means really. All I know is that I can’t tell the difference between our relationship and the relationship all my friends have with their “blood fathers.” He definitely stepped up to the plate and filled a void in my life and I love him so much more for that.

All jokes aside, I’m scared shitless. I tried to make this blog lighthearted so that it wouldn’t be a completely depressing read. I love hiding my emotions behind humor! But I’ve never lost anyone in my life. I was too young to even remember when my great-grandparents died, or my Uncle Rick. I am definitely not ready to lose my dad.

SO BACK OFF, CANCER, YOU STUPID BITCH!

I’m sure he’ll be fine, as the doctor has apparently assured. Prostate cancer has a very high survival rate and Dad is more badass than most men. He’s been shot, he’s jumped out of helicopters to save lives, etc. etc. But I’d still appreciate the prayer thing. Or, ya’ know, whatever you think will help. Voodoo doll personifying cancer, spells, curses, meditation, light a candle… I don’t know very much about religions, this is clear. Or you can just give him a hug next time you see him! Or a Facebook hug, those are nice too.

Love you Milton LEROY Thompson Junior AKA Dad!:)