This Is My Dad

This is my dad. 


Like many little girls I've always seen my dad as a source of strength and inspiration.  He worked hard and worked a lot when we were growing up but I never felt like he was absent. While I'm sure we have my mom to thank for that as well (amazing how much perspective one gains as they grow older) he was always there when we needed him. He coached my sports teams, watched my piano recitals and jumped in the pool to save me the time I did a back flip off the diving board and hit my head. He was tough on me when he needed to be, but was soft most of the time.  There's a great story about how once when I was misbehaving during church my mom told him take to me out to spank me but I somehow ended up with chocolate on my face instead. I'm not sure I ever got a spanking as a kid, even though I am sure I deserved it (and I do know I got a lot of chocolate...).


This is my dad.

As you can probably see in the picture he has a big lump in his chest (next  to the bow tie).  This is his defibrillator. He started having heart trouble my freshman year of college and it's been a somewhat bumpy road ever since then.  We've had a few major scares along the way, but he always manages to come out of it. Though his diet was most likely a factor in his health, there is a genetic component to his heart disease that can't be denied. My grandfather died after a series of heart attacks and strokes when I was just 5 years old (which I think put him in his late 60s). Both my aunt and uncle were diagnosed with heart disease in their 50s and have undergone triple and quadruple bypasses just to stay alive (and both could probably employ their own pharmacist to keep track of all the meds they take).  And my grandma had so many ailments (whether real or imagined) that I won't even try to go there.

This is my dad.

If you zoomed in a little closer in this photo you'd see scars showing that my dad has also had his gall bladder removed, hernia surgery and has a completely detached bicep.  Depending on the day you might also be able to see the spot where my mom injects his B12 shots that keep him from dying from pernicious anemia. Thankfully, there is no amount of zoom that would show you the scars that prove he is also a survivor of colon cancer.  

This is my dad.


What you can't see in the picture is that at the time it was taken his cancer blood levels were up and he was in atrial fibrillation.  We've known his blood levels were off for awhile but for some reason or another they hadn't been able to find where the cancer is.  Until now.  He found an odd lump a few weeks back and though we don't have any definitive answers yet the scans, tests and biopsies have started. I honestly don't know if finding the lump is good news or bad news.  I hate the waiting for answers almost as much as I hate cancer.  Almost.

And the a-fib?  Apparently it's become so common for him that he ignores it, even though he shouldn't. They've changed his meds, hoping they can control it medically, but it's trial and error.  I don't like the sound of that at all.


This is my dad.

Despite his height (you can see M is gaining on him already!) my dad was a phenomenal basketball player in his youth.  He was actually still listed in the Top 100 Scorers of All-time in Minnesota High School Basketball up until recently.  He didn't let his height set him back then - he just tried harder.  And that is how he is fighting this one.  He could've gone home and sat around waiting for answers but he didn't.  He donned his running shoes, iPod and the horrible mesh shirt he, much to everyone's chagrin, so loves to wear and headed out for a 5 mile walk.  He's quote to the doctor was something to the effect of "You're not going to bench me now, Coach."  

This is my dad.