What Can I Say?

Not much.

In a way, this has been a great holiday. I haven't worked since December 21st. I will go in for a bit tomorrow, but for the most part, I am off until Jan. 3. Our Christmas presents are ones we will open later. We saw some family, we saw some shows, we are planning on spending NYE listening to some bands in Atlanta and then hanging out with another couple - ice skating on Jan. 1.

I turn 32 on Jan. 2.

Last year, on Thanksgiving Day, my uncle Freddie told me that he had "a spot on his lung". Of course, having anything on the lungs is not a good thing. He told me not to worry. I saw him for Christmas and then, as I was planning to see him again (I usually go for my birthday, but I missed a couple of weeks), the day before I was going to head there (I had to plan my free time then), I got a call from my aunt telling me that he was dead.

What the hell??? I felt like I walked around in a cloud of confusion and I pushed the anger and sadness to the back of my mind. I hated going to sleep because when you're laying there in the dark, the only thoughts that come are the ones you spend the whole day pushing back.

This Thanksgiving, we decided that we were going to stay home for the first time, celebrating Thanksgiving as a family instead of shuffling between our families. So we make our phone calls and when I talk to my dad, he sounds like someone thought it would be fun to stump on his throat. I tell him he sounds horrible and I hope he's going to the doctor. I'm joking but I know. Even then, I know even though I know my dad would never tell me. The Wednesday after Thanksgiving, a day after his doctor appointment, my aunt called me to let me know that he had throat cancer. The kind caused by smoking and drinking for most of your life. Stage 4, caught late. I want to have hope, but I'm a worse case scenario person.

A tracheotomy, 3 of 5-7 days in the hospital, and disillusionment of my mother later, we are looking at a long haul for my dad. Chemotherapy, radiation, possibly losing his voicebox, and depending on the biopsy of the tumor, a few months to live. To my family, I only talk about the best case scenario. In a few days, we'll all know.

I don't know how I feel. I don't want comforting words. This isn't that type of post. This is just an update, this is what's been going on. It's not an easy thing for you to read or for me to write, but there it is.