Up until maybe a couple of months ago, I would have challenged anybody to look at my 86 year old dad and say he didn’t look fifteen years younger, if not twenty. He didn’t just look much younger, he behaved like a much younger man. He’s never been the sort of person that could just sit around doing nothing; he always had to be active and doing things.
But then something happened. He suddenly got sicker and sicker, his appetite vanished, he got skinnier and skinnier, he was in constant – and ever-growing – pain, and for the first time in his life, he looked like an old man. That’s perhaps been the biggest shock of all, seeing him become a sick, weak old man in a matter of weeks.
The weird thing about parents is that, to their children, they tend to be seen as almost immortal; they’re always going to be around, surely! But then one gets sick, very sick, and suddenly they don’t look immortal at all.
My dad has been diagnosed with bone cancer around his shoulder blade, and they’re next going to be conducting more extensive tests in other parts of his body, obviously to see if it’s anywhere else. It’s good that we finally know what’s wrong, but the knowledge doesn’t bring much comfort.
CANCER, the big C word, just like FUCK is the big F word, yet cancer causes people to shudder in near-horror like the F word never could. Being a life-long smoker, up until a year ago, means cancer isn’t surprising, but it by no means lessens the impact. There are not many things people fear more than cancer. It’s not the virtual death sentence that it once was, but it still doesn’t make a person less terrified of it.
The old man might frequently be a pain in the arse, but I’d still much prefer to have the annoying old bugger around.