A Journey. Day 1.

Day 1 of ‘who knows’.

Sitting in the Chemo-Room at Penrose watching my dad drift off to sleep with round one. Not his first rodeo. Diana, Lauren and my pops have been battling through this and adopted this ‘way of life’ for about 25 years. Several more hours spent here than I knew about. My dad is a recognizable face in this place, yet, he’s been around here more than many of the employees.

I was here for a couple trips during one of the early fights. I was here for one of the hospital stays 8 or 10 years ago when it was looking rough. But this journey, the one that begins today, is a new one for me. I was so convicted when Diana broke the news to me that “the monster is back”. Dad wasn’t ready to tell me yet. And I know why. He wanted to know more about where he was at and what the strategy was going to be this time. Diana actually called to let me know, but even more to give me a kick in the pants to call Dad. Dad and I are great, but both really bad about calling each other to check in. Now, with my oldest son in college and away from home. I’m getting a taste of what that feels like sometimes. Letting your kids go out in the world is quite a change, but I am learning now how important it is to fix the communication gaps now – not to wait. It has just become easy for Dad and I to touch base once in a while and forget the importance of frequency. So, circling back to focus – when I saw that there was an opportunity to designate myself as Dad’s official ride for chemo, I grabbed it. Thank you Diana for letting me jump on that. I never even asked, so I appreciate you letting me.

Deep focus. Reflection. Driving into Dad’s neighborhood this morning I got a great pause to see the clouds enveloping the mountains near his house. Beautiful. God = Amazing. I love Creation, His Creativity. Even more, the times like that when I feel He ‘made me look’, so I wouldn’t miss it. Lots of time here today and for the first couple of rounds. The sessions get shorter as time goes on. For me being honest, I’m always petrified to be away from the office. Worried about leaving things hanging, missing a call. But, as much as this circumstance is unwelcome, this time with Dad, this time with God – sitting in the Chemo-Room at Penrose watching my dad react to the drugs he’s getting – irreplaceable. Critical. Blessing in the midst of uncertainty.

Now 1 hour into day 1. Long way to go.
Dad’s having a reaction to the first dose.
I look around the room and there are lots of stories like this. I am absorbed in this time, writing and watching my dad for signs of a reaction – then I look up and around. More chairs get filled. People are getting hooked up.