Most things are ranked on a scale of 1-10. Sometimes it's a scale of 1-5. So when I heard my sister say my dad's cancer had progressed to stage 4 I wasn't overly concerned. A little upset, yes, because any progression is bad but it could be worse, right? But when I got home and turned to my good friend google, he told me a different story. There are only 4 stages and that's where he's at. Sitting there at stage 4. And that's where we're sitting with him. Right there at stage 4.
Nothing has really changed since Friday except for that number. He's still in radiation therapy. There's still hope. Always room for hope. But that number makes it hard to sit still, makes it hard to hold back the water, makes it hard to breathe easy. Four is a hard number to swallow.
my little homophobe
1 year ago