It has been six months and change, over half a year, since my last post. Long time, but then time has a different meaning when you're riding the HD train. Hey, can't this heap go any goddamned faster? I don't know how much more of this agonizing trip I can take! But then, I know what's at the end of the ride and... well... maybe ease up on shoveling that coal. Maybe I'm not quite ready after all.
Anyway, I'm back. See, what happened was, after I realized how this blog was just so much bullshit, I found a new outlet to manage my grief. I set up shop on a different corner of the internet and started blogging stupid cartoons and writing - acting like a kid again, pissing on the wall and doing jumping-jacks in the puddle. It was fun and provided a daily distraction.
Also, I was really, very, consistently drunk most of the time, so there was some joy in waking up the morning after and checking the stats to see how many people saw me staggering around the internet with my dick out the night before. Ha! I showed them a thing or two don't you think?
Well a month ago my sister called with the news that my dad has pancreatic cancer. He'll die soon.
My first reaction - the biggest knot of agony in my stomach - came from the realization that my wife CANNOT find out about this. I told my sister not to call my house; not to talk to my wife - also, tell mom, my brother, his wife, not to call the house.
My wife cannot know my dad has pancreatic cancer because I have no idea how she would handle the news.
Of course, my sister asked why and I had to tell her. Huntington's Disease. Hands off/keep away.
So now all my family - except dad - know my secret.
"Hi dad. Sorry about the big C, but hey, my wife has HD. TRUMP CARD!"
Sitting at my desk for a couple of hours, processing this, and I'm overwhelmed. I shut the door and just start crying. Of course, life being the pile of shit that it is, now is when everybody comes knocking, bringing projects. No really, I'll go days with nobody stopping by my office at all. As soon as I need privacy.... Hello. Well, God-bless Houston and it's 365 day a year allergy season. Not everyone was convinced, I'm sure, but nobody pressed so I'm still okay at the job.
Why the sobbing? I mean, besides the fact that I'll be burying my father within the year? Well, how am I going to see him before he dies? I can't tell my wife about the cancer - I can't leave her alone and she has a very hard time traveling. Fuck - I might not even be able to go to the funeral.
I'll have to email my dad goodbye.
***
Hey, remember when I said life was shit and you thought I was walling in self-pity? Being a bitch? Well, check this out: after I told everybody in my family to stay away from my wife and I, just leave us alone, because I'm trying very hard to convince her she doesn't have Huntington's Disease and I can't have any conversational slips or discussions about sickness and health. After all that, my dad calls the house to tell us the news himself. And, yes, my wife answered the phone.
There should be limits.
Surprisingly, my wife takes the news very well. True, she never really got to know my dad. Only met him a few times - but this is a woman who will start singing "La La La!" at the top of her voice to drown out the TV while she scrambles for the remote control to change the station from any pharmaceutical commercial even suggesting treatment for a disease.
Later, I come to understand that she doesn't know what pancreatic cancer means. She's talking about how my dad will be okay - how she's see where lots of people have beat cancer.... Yeah, she's probably thinking prostate.
I don't correct her.
***
There's a lot still up in the air. I still don't know if or how I'll get to see my dad before he dies. Or the funeral.
My dad was always so big. Big tall guy.
What will he look like when I see him, if I see him?
