Like a Tank & being Honest

My mother started work again today.

My dad is still in hospital.

His calcium levels are inching down, slowly.

The internist spoke to my mother yesterday, about what will happen, and that at some stage, my father's weary body will no longer respond to treatment.

At that point, the multiple myeloma will waltz through his bones and body like a tank.

 

My dad got the full-blown version of Multiple Myeloma - everything that can go wrong, has gone wrong.
Damn you, P53-gene.
Damn you.
Right now, they're debating whether to treat him for the tumours growing in his sinus cavity, next to his left temple, the tumour pushing my dad's eye outwards.
Perhaps radiation??
His entire skull has been affected:  holes, lesions, tumours.

We don't know how long he still has.
Hopefully he'll bounce back with that fighting spirit of his, to sit in the sun, so I can hear his voice again over the phone.

My father is dying.
There aren't words out there to do justice to this injustice.
And I don't know what to do but hope that he will pass gently, and without fear.


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