Reality Bites

There's no way to make the facts eloquent or poetic, so here they are. Daddy has Stage 4 liver cancer. It's an automatic stage 4 because it has spread from somewhere else in the body. Probably the pancreas- possibly the colon, but unlikely. So they have had to send it back for more pathology evaluation and until then it's called "unknown primary," meaning they don't know where it started. They may never know. Isn't that strange? It can be so incredibly tiny that the most powerful microscopes in the world may not be able to find it, yet it can literally suck the life right out of you. Why would God make something like that? I don't get it.

In any case, it's the type of cancer for which they don't give you a cure rate. They say things like, "we don't have a very good track record," or "we've seen people go for two years." Tomorrow Daddy will go to the IU med center in Indianapolis for a second opinion. On January 5th he will get the detailed pathology reports and start chemotherapy. The doctor said that if they can track down the origin, find the right combination of experimental drugs, have success with the drugs, shrink the lesions on the liver- then they could do a liver resection. If you are a person who likes to pray specifically, that would be something to pray for.

I'm still having trouble praying. You know when you're talking to your husband and he's close enough to "hear" you, but you know he's not "listening?" That's how I feel about God right now. Sometimes, at night, I'll lay there and try to eek something out and it feels like the ceiling is blocking the reception- inhibiting the signal to heaven. I know- it's a reception problem on my end, not God's. I hope it gets better.

Dear Daddy,
You didn't have a Daddy who listened to you or treated you with love until you met your heavenly father. Today Joe and I talked about what an incredible job you did teaching yourself to be an amazing father. John said something that I wish I had come up with myself. He said, "Your dad took an acorn and turned it into a giant oak tree." That's true, Daddy. You're the trunk of this now strong and beautiful tree, and that will never change. I always knew you would listen to me; and the fact that I was able to trust, confide in and rely on my earthly father is what taught me that I could also trust, confide in and rely on my Heavenly father. I'm having some trouble with that right now, but you and I have had trouble before and we got through it and came back stronger. I hope my "other" Daddy and I will do that too. I think we will. I love you as big as the whole sky.