Dad and I went to see Baryshnikov last night. Other than me wearing a skirt as an homage to my first love (“girlish infatuation” not being nearly a strong enough description for my 12-year-old ardor), it was as it has always been in the past: a girl and her pop out for a night on the town.

That this seemed like an impossibility just a few scant months ago proves how lucky we are to live in the modern age. That Dad, who looked as though checking out was preferable to any alternative in June, now looks forward with hope and expectation to a very exciting cultural season of symphonies, dance performances, and visits from friends is amazing. Two shots of hormone therapy and the removal of a bag from his goods has given him a bonus round, one which he appreciates with every last fiber.

“I’m thinking about getting back on my bike,” he told me last night as we toddled back to the car. “And it seems like if I’m entertaining the thought, I should probably just go for it,” he concluded. This was an utterly absurd thought two weeks ago; now it’s a real consideration.

When Dad got the catheter removed, it was a final great liberation: his mood was instantly lifted. I’m not sure if he knew how much it had been affecting him until it was gone. But he admitted to me once it was off, “Thank you. Without you I would have despaired,” a great, great compliment, but one which makes one realize the gravity of his situation under all his jollity, and it made me grimly aware of all the emotional activity under the surface of his rather sanguine response to the cancer.

We had been planning around his increasing infirmity before; perhaps it was unstated but I think both of us were considering our big events to be eating dinner out, and taking in some movies once in a while. He always maintained from the first diagnosis that he wanted to see as many of his concerts and performances as he could this year, but when he said it a couple months ago, it was under the assumption that he would be missing some. Maybe a lot.

Now he’s planning on seeing all of them and that in itself is an amazing thing. He has hot flashes once in a while, but on balance I believe it’s a small price to pay.

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