There aren't enough drugs to make me feel better.

	4/21/01 Nothing is amusing. Nothing is funny. My father has cancer. Bone cancer. Spread from somewhere else, but they haven't figured that out yet. The labs are off for the weekend. They haven't read the cat scans he had on Friday. I talked to him today. He wasn't expecting this. None of us were. My mother, my brother, my sisters. My daughter. I've been on the phone a lot. He went in for tests earlier this week. He's smoked for 60 years. But his chest x-ray was clean. His heart is good. His body has been aching for months. He couldn't walk. He couldn't sleep. Sitting relieved the pain. Vicodin didn't relieve the pain. Two vicodins didn't. And now they know it's bone cancer. And now they have him on a morphine patch. So the pain has been dealt with. Leaving the awareness of what's happening. Everything reminds me of my dad. And I burst into long, hard dry sobbing. Whatever complaints I've had in life. Nothing. Nothing means a fucking thing. My father is dying. He knows he's dying. And he doesn't want to die. There are probably lots of stories like this. Every day people dying. But honestly, I don't care. There is nothing uplifting here. There's no lesson. I make lists in my head. What I've learned from him. It's all time killer. distraction. I don't want hm to die. And there's nothing I can do about it. There's more. But I'm too sick to deal with it now. In my own passive agressive way, I've been relieved to see certain people go. To leave my life forever. Not to have to deal with them again. But not this man. I don't want him to go. What do I have to do, pray?

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