FACT: Dad hearts Emmylou.
I think we have all been vascillating on the line of what is the appropriate respect/fear/attitude/ignorance(the verb)/obession to give the Rotten Kidney Disease, and I think we're trudging through... feeling it out as we go, but I can't seem to get myself too down about it. Really, it could be so much worse.
I have my moments of envisioning what I wear to Dad's funeral(sorry Dad... you are wearing a loverly suit and that goose tie that looks like sperm from far away), and how I'll explain it to my children, and if I'll need to delete emails and phone records so they don't sneak up on me.. I suppose my visions are psychological preparedness or something.... WAIT, not my point. My point is that so much more often than that, I am reminded that Really, it could be so much worse.
I see kids every day that have gotten the short end of the stick. Not all those kids, mind you... as I don't consider a disability a short stick AT ALL! Ethan is still asking me for a full leg orthotics and a G-tube so he doesn't have to eat dinner anymore. But some kids, for some reason, have gotten a shitty road laid before them. Suddenly injured and not the same, abused, or chronically ill child: those are worse. No question.
No offense Dad, I wish you didn't have Rotten Kidney Cells floating about your vessel, and this blog may label me "Cruel Loveless Daughter-Blogger PooPoos Father's Metestatic Kidney Cancer!," but I don't mind. I know you know that I know that you know what I'm talking about.
I know it may get worse. I'll worry about that if it happens. Right now, right this minute, I know everything's alright. If I'm so caught up in what tie Dad's wearing to his funeral, I can't appreciate the gigantic CORN DOG! he brought me from the game last weekend, or the magazines he mailed me that I left at his house (made my DAY!), or the brand new appreciation I have for Diet 7-up. Delicious!
Here's dad taking Chemo at the game. Thanks drug-nerds. I wish I had half your brain power.
This is us,
E to tha A to tha B