The Glossary of Dad
271: The first number that hinted at more than a bladder infection found in his PSA blood work. It should be well below that: 4 or less. It’s pretty hard to square that circle, isn’t it?
PSA: Prostate Specific Androgen, the little hormone that raised the red flag.
Grumpy: The way Dad felt about this whole “getting old” business before he found out he wasn’t “old” but “ill.”
“The Big Reveal:” cloaked behind layers of relatively mundane complaints like achy arthritis and frequent trips to the loo, Dad’s cancer, like all divas, made sure that it had a slow build to create all necessary anticipatory frenzy for when the curtain was finally pulled. Sneaky little bastard.
Serene: How Dad seems after “The Big Reveal.”
Catheter: a fine how-do-you-do for a lifetime of service, thank you very much!
Stage 4 (IV): The place that the cancer decided to have its Big Debut. Always reaching for the highest level of melodrama, the little tart.
Relieved: The way all of us feel that he’s here instead of in Colorado, suffering the slings and arrows of this event isolated from family. For a while I felt guilty for uprooting him; none of us feels any such remorse now. It is a gift.
Hormone Therapy: Girly hormones which tamp down Dad’s testosterone which fuels the cancer. It is the first line of defense in Dad’s cancer care. Possible side effects include: a new interest in “romance novels,” long walks on the beach and whether these pants make his butt look fat.
Testosterone: another cruel irony in the fate of men, it is testosterone which fuels the fire in the belly of the beast. Without the testosterone, it is hoped, the cancer stops growing. Hence the hormone therapy. It is also hoped that once the testosterone is suppressed, Dad’ll let his subscription to “Guns and Ammo” lapse.
Bones: Where the cancer has metastasized to. It isn’t ideal, but it’s all we’ve got. So we deal with it as best we can.
Grateful: How we feel for everyone who is concerned, interested, and compassionate. Thanks.
Popularity: 7% [?]
Dearest Quenby,
I can barely write this right now as tears stream down my cheeks. Thanks for your blog so I can be there more in spirit. Your Dad is like the Dad I would have picked, I loved my own Dad with all my heart but we never “connected” like I do with your Dad. He has been more than a teacher, more than a friend, Charles has been on my mind so much and I thought about calling him on Father’s Day, especially to tell him we got David a puppy and the girls named him Milo. Anyway my love and light embraces all of you and we want to come out for a few days to help in any way we can, especially to lift spirits and do whatever would help you out. We hope to hear from you soon.
Love and Prayers,
Martha
Martha–
Thanks so much for writing. I know that much of this is coming as a surprise to people since Dad seems timeless, like an old gnarled tree or a burnished stone.
It didn’t occur to me when I sent Dad the link that he, as is his way, might have underplayed the situation. I know he’s trying to keep it so that it doesn’t put anyone out. He just doesn’t want to bother anyone!
For my part, just remember that I am NOT the patient, and his perspective is totally different from mine–he’s a complicated old goat and I don’t pretend to know what he’s really thinking about all that has transpired. This is about me and my feelings, which are of course prone to calm or hysteria by turns, depending on the mood.
The facts in Dad’s case are as I’ve written about them–but facts are always up to interpretation and I may not always have a good line on them. It’s all about perspective, as you know.
And as for Dad being an honorary Dad to you, there’s more than enough of him to share. You are welcome.