Thankful

I realize I'm over a month late in this, but I can't help but think of what I'm thankful for. Mostly, for Dad's melanoma cancer. As terrible as that sounds, if it wasn't for the full body scan after they discovered the melanoma, they would have never found his colon cancer. Dad wouldn't have gotten checked for colon cancer for another 5-10 years. By then, he would be gone. So, on a daily basis, I thank God for the melanoma.

While the melanoma was the worst of the cancer, the colon cancer has been the most difficult on Dad. While it was the easiest to get rid of, it was the most difficult to deal with. The colostomy bag (which he had for ages) was more than annoying for him, and just a few weeks ago (the weekend of my brother's wedding) he had it removed. This made everyone happy, until a few days after sewing him back up (he actually helped hold the hole shut while the doctor sewed. Awesome.), it became infected. I drove Dad in that day, hoping they would give him some medication and be done with it. I settled back into the waiting room and began watching the TV. They finally had something other than Oprah on. It was a show on Naturalization.

A little while later, Dad emerged hobbling and pale. He was still his cheerful self, but he needed his pain meds. They didn't just prescribe him  medication for the infection. They had to take out the stitches and pull apart the hole (they needed to pry it apart because it had already begun healing together) in order to scrape out the infection. The hole is surprisingly large (Dad showed Marc and I one day before changing his bandages), so when Dad whimpered as I took his arm (no where near his stomach, but I'm sure the skin moving hurt), I was alarmed. Dad doesn't whimper, let alone hobble. I left Dad in Mom's office (she works at the clinic doing insurance forms and things) and I ran to see if the medication was ready. Of course, it wasn't. Not only wasn't it ready, but the doctor forgot to put directions down for how to take the pills. So they couldn't even fill it until he told them what to do. This didn't end up happening for another day, but I ended up running back and forth a few times before they told me to come back tomorrow.

This time, they didn't sew the hole back together. They want it to heal by itself. Dad hasn't had to take his pain meds as often anymore (for this, I am also thankful), and he has gone back to work full time.

So, as awful as it sounds, I am thankful for his stage two melanoma skin cancer. That damn golf ball on his upper arm. Because if that wasn't a warning sign from God, I don't know what is.