I've Lived a Good Life...
Those were the first words my dad spoke after he was given his cancer diagnosis, "well, I've lived a good life". There are few moments in life that you can remember every single instant of. This was one of those moments.
My dad was having some indigestion and thought he should get a check up. His doctor recommended that he get a colonoscopy. I offered to drive him to the appointment with mom. The procedure was fast. We didn't think much would come of it, maybe some dietary restrictions. After my dad came to, we were just pleasantly sitting there, talking about the big news my husband and I shared with them the week before. We were 2 1/2 months pregnant with our first child.
The doctor came to dad's bedside and in the most casual tone told us all, "well, it looks like you've got cancer, and it appears as though it has spread. Now I'm going to give you the name of an oncologist that I want you to call Monday, but he's probably going to agree with my diagnosis. I want to tell you what I told my 96 year old father when he was diagnosed with cancer (I feel the need to mention that my father was 69, not 96)." He said "I asked him how he wants to live out his final days? If I was you, I'd head home and get my affairs in order. I give you about 8 weeks".
Talk about a bomb shell! The doctor didn't even take us into a little room and hand us tissue.
That is when my dad uttered those six heart felt words, "Well, I've lived a good life!".
Now, this blog is not going to be a play by play of both my parents cancer journey because that's just sad. I intend on this to be a place where I can use our experiences to provoke thoughts about life and how to live it. My dad didn't throw in the towel that day. After several conversations (some very passionate from my brother), he decided to put his faith in God and to fight for time, and time is what he got.
At the time that he stated that phrase I had 1000 emotions.
1. Sadness because I thought he was giving up.
2. Anger at the doctor that was trying to persuade my father to not even try.
3. Fear of losing my best friend, because he really was. I was absolutely a Daddy's Girl.
4. Heartache over the thought that my dad may never meet my sweet baby.
5. Scared that I may miscarry from the stress of it all.
The list went on and on.
The piece of that moment that baffled me the most was that my dad really meant those words. He had lived a good life. He loved his family and his God, and he was not afraid to die. How many people look at their life today and think, okay I'm ready for the big guy upstairs?
Now, a few years after his passing I look at that moment completely different than I did that day.
Now I think, "How can I learn to live my life to be more like him?"
My dad was having some indigestion and thought he should get a check up. His doctor recommended that he get a colonoscopy. I offered to drive him to the appointment with mom. The procedure was fast. We didn't think much would come of it, maybe some dietary restrictions. After my dad came to, we were just pleasantly sitting there, talking about the big news my husband and I shared with them the week before. We were 2 1/2 months pregnant with our first child.
The doctor came to dad's bedside and in the most casual tone told us all, "well, it looks like you've got cancer, and it appears as though it has spread. Now I'm going to give you the name of an oncologist that I want you to call Monday, but he's probably going to agree with my diagnosis. I want to tell you what I told my 96 year old father when he was diagnosed with cancer (I feel the need to mention that my father was 69, not 96)." He said "I asked him how he wants to live out his final days? If I was you, I'd head home and get my affairs in order. I give you about 8 weeks".
Talk about a bomb shell! The doctor didn't even take us into a little room and hand us tissue.
That is when my dad uttered those six heart felt words, "Well, I've lived a good life!".
Now, this blog is not going to be a play by play of both my parents cancer journey because that's just sad. I intend on this to be a place where I can use our experiences to provoke thoughts about life and how to live it. My dad didn't throw in the towel that day. After several conversations (some very passionate from my brother), he decided to put his faith in God and to fight for time, and time is what he got.
At the time that he stated that phrase I had 1000 emotions.
1. Sadness because I thought he was giving up.
2. Anger at the doctor that was trying to persuade my father to not even try.
3. Fear of losing my best friend, because he really was. I was absolutely a Daddy's Girl.
4. Heartache over the thought that my dad may never meet my sweet baby.
5. Scared that I may miscarry from the stress of it all.
The list went on and on.
The piece of that moment that baffled me the most was that my dad really meant those words. He had lived a good life. He loved his family and his God, and he was not afraid to die. How many people look at their life today and think, okay I'm ready for the big guy upstairs?
Now, a few years after his passing I look at that moment completely different than I did that day.
Now I think, "How can I learn to live my life to be more like him?"
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