My Dad

My dad says he has sacrificed more than I have in the last four years that I disrupted. I find that hard to believe. He says its my fault we moved out of our house and sold all we owned (which wasn’t much) and had to live in a camper for over a year. And it is my fault but he did not have to have take the red devil chemo and puke every single day, too many times a day to know. He didn’t lie on an operating table for 14.5 hours and wake up not knowing if he still had a leg. He can still run, and jump, and ride a bike, and even put his own sock on. While I can do none of those things. He has all of his lungs and can breathe easily. I am missing half of my right lung and get out of breath quickly. He didn’t have 2 different port placements and one removal, nor did he have to get stuck with needles 24/7. His body is not permanently scarred with the scars no one should have to bare. He may have been there and saw everything I went through, but what did he sacrifice. I know it hurt him but he did live everyday wondering if it was his last. Of I course I did not tell everyone this all the time, but I did wonder, I was scared that I might not see tomorrow. Anyone of us can go at anytime from this messed up world but you never think of that until you know you could be next. I am sure he thought all of these terrible things but if I was gone, he would still be here to taunt me forever of lost life. My dad is not mean but cannot understand that I was the one battling for my life. I am the one who has been poked and prodded and sliced and diced. I am left with the battle scars that someone 5 times my age should not have to endure. I was poisoned with one harsh medicine after another and grilled with radiation. I was the one that was told you have cancer 4 times. And I was the one that was given up on by my doctor. I changed in so many ways that I don’t even know. I try not complain that much, though it’s hard. Living life to the fullest is now my favorite dream. I want my dad to understand but I hope he, himself never has go down the scary road that is cancer. I have been lucky for every time I have gotten cancer, it has been destroyed. I am so lucky to have gotten in a trial at St. Jude. I am even luckier to be 4 months in remission. I am the luckiest to have gotten cancer and if I could go back, I would not change it for the world. I was not so much before but now am convinced that there has to be someone or something that gives us this luck. God or fate or whatever you prefer but there is no bad luck; it may seem that way but there is always a reason and will turn out alright in the end if you believe. And I don’t mean God or anything like that, just believe that it will get better and I know it will. I have a weird theory that you only die if you want to. I choose to live and that is what I am going to do. So now that I’ve thought about it, if my dad thinks that those material things are so important, then maybe he did sacrifice more than me. Because to me I may be covered in scars and missing several “important” body parts but I am alive, cancer free, and I have gained so many new friends and experiences that there is nothing for me complain about. I wish my dad could see this and understand and see it the way I do now. Thanks for letting me get this out, I hope it helps some else who’s down in the dumps about whatever is bugging them. Dominique