77. Miami

Date: January 9, 1990
Age: 12

Miami and Key Largo are a lot more fun when you and Mom are here.
I miss you both.
Dad

After another couple of months have passed with little information from my dad regarding his health, my brothers and I finally were let in to his reality a bit, two weeks ago. My brother B called his house. Although my dad and his wife usually let calls go to the answering machine, this time, H picked up. Our dad was napping she said, and then she broke down. He's not doing well. His kidneys can't get back to functioning properly, which just delays the treatments he needs. He was going into the hospital tomorrow for some major blast of chemo that will wipe out his immune system that makes it too risky to have as outpatient.

She said it's probably time that the three of us came to visit. Soon.

We don't know if she was upset because she's overwhelmed, or because she also knows that this is his last chance at fighting his cancer. Of course she's overwhelmed. She has been his only caretaker ever since his diagnosis in August, 2007. But my brothers and I do not feel guilty over this, because this is the way my dad has wanted it from the beginning.

Only a few weeks before B's conversation with H, C asked our dad if he could visit, but was told that a visit feels too much like "work." Some have suggested he's trying to protect us from the gravity of his situation. I don't think that's the case; I'm sure he doesn't want us to see him in such bad condition, but pride is the underlying reason. And H is his world; he feels he only needs her. And thankfully, she's been the devoted caregiver all this time. I wonder if she ever resents going at it alone; if she does, I can't fault her for that.

The next day, when he entered the hospital, C gave her a call. She was in hysterics again, claiming that Dad's bone marrow was filled with cancer. But isn't that how it's always been? WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON? I left my dad a message on his cell phone (which he always keeps turned off) and he got back to me. He sounded out of it. Tired. Not very hopeful. For the first time, I became very upset about his whole situation.

He's a bit more stable now. We haven't spoken, but B and C say he sounds stronger than he did the day before the chemo shock treatment. When asked if he was up for visitors, Dad said we could come "anytime."

His sudden change of heart startles us. Is he not telling us something? Is this H's influence on him?

B, C and I fly to Miami next Monday for about 48 hours. Only then will we really know what the fuck is going on--and we'll finally understand if this trip is to just provide some support, or to say goodbye.