more.

We go back to the VA in the morning.  I hope that we get some more information on what the game plan is.  People ask me daily how he is, and I do appreciate the concern, there are just no cut and dried answers to give.  Now that things have slowed up, and he's been home a little over a week, I think my mind and my body have slowed down and started to swallow and digest just exactly what a tornado we have all been in.  I am so very blessed with great people in my life.  But, that being said, I can be a very very unapproachable person when it comes to "real" stuff.  I can rattle all day about things of no substance, but when it comes to my father, and his illness, there are very very few things that I benefit from hearing. There are some people that I just downright do NOT listen to. Timing is everything. Delivery is of great importance. Below is an excerpt of a message I got during my dad's hospitalization.  Don't ask where it came from, because I won't tell.

Shelley..Stay with me here...think deeply about what I am saying..I assure you it is true.....YOU have been GIVEN a privilage to walk the last miles with your DAD...YES>>>Privilage...you are there to support and love and help him in what ever way you can...just as he has done for you all those years...HE does not HAVE to walk the last miles alone....and it is a Privilage for you to GET TO BE THERE...not a burden....

Well. Just so you know, not just anyone could say that to me and actually get through to me.  But the person speaking has nothing but love for me, and there was a lot more to that message that is too personal to share, but I can say, it arrived at a great time.  As I said, timing is everything.  God threw that at me through this person.  Just as I think God threw us our favorite nurse, Tony.  He knew it had to be the right man to deliver it, or I would've been shut off to it, regardless of it's value. If Tony hadn't been huge, a big ol' gentle giant, I wouldn't have paid attention.  I have, over time, become a great judge of character.  My daddy's illness just sharpened that skill. I haven't talked to anyone about the moment of being the only one present at they took my daddy into surgery.  A surgery that no one thought he'd make it through. I melted into the floor after they wheeled him away. Just slid down the wall, into the floor and sat there.  There were no more tears left.  Just stunned silence and wondering, did I just see my daddy for the last time?  And then my phone goes off with just the right message; the one above, on it. Thank you, nameless person, for jarring me back to reality.  Because I can say this, as Dr Parnell took him away, and said to me; "it's lengthy, it's risky, so say what you need to to him," I honestly didn't have anything exceptional to say. I didn't have some apology to make, or some question to ask. We were fine.  Still are. I am his greatest advocate, other than my mom and brother.  I am good at that.  I am good at asking too many questions. I am good at wanting too much information. I know there is a happy medium, but I don't gauge that too well. I'm good at saying his life exists because God wants him here. I can give credit where it is due.

So, I will post tomorrow, and update what is going on at this point.  It's hard, it's scary, and I hate every single aspect of cancer.  But it can't take away my memories, and it cannot change his soul.