My father has cancer. He is 83 has been living with me for four years and he has cancer. The slide into frailty and pain was dizzyingly fast. So fast that everyone thought his pain was due to other things. So they pushed him, nagged him, told him he was guilty of being to sedentary and that is what happens to a body when in active. I said that. I don't know if I can forgive myself for that sin.

My dad was inactive. He did not like to do anything. He had COPD and needed to move around and stay active. But this pain, this pain was different. It scared me. I was worried. The pain killers got more potent and the pain got worse and then a week ago today I had to call the ambulance. Dad could not breath. Pneumonia had set in. He was septic and very sick.

The cancer has metastasized to the bone. His pelvis is frail and broken in several places. A rib is broken, the 11th vertebrae is broken and he has fractures in two other places. He had a biopsy of his bone marrow yesterday so we can find were this originated. Still, will that matter?

I see my father so pail and delicate. Often incoherent from the Morphine or Dilaudid. His slight dementia made worse by being so ill and I wonder about his life. A life I don't think was that happy. He looks so alone and so lost. A stranger from the young man I have seen in photographes smiling and holding a martini. Svelt, handsome and well dressed. His life spread out before him.

It has come full circle. I feel maternal to the man who raised me. Protective and nurturing. A father who did not pay much attention to his daughter but loved me all the same. In the end it is clear my mother, who he is divorced from is the person he loves the most. She has been at his side. Caring for him in a way I never thought could happen. The parents who screamed at each other, hated each other and wanted out are clearly bonded in this time of need and pain.

I missed seeing my father today. I was supposed to be there, mother had to work. I awoke in severe pain from my Fibro/CFS/MFS and could barely move. I thought I could sleep awhile more and drag myself there. Then I was atacked my a migraine and pulled into the darkeness for the rest of the day.

When I awoke I called the hospital and asked how he was and then called him. He was very talkative. Incoherent but chatty. I think he talked about getting me the Clapper for 24.99, but in the midst of all those mixed up words when I told dad I was so sorry I had missed seeing him because of my headache he said " Oh , that's ok. Tomorrow is another day." I was speechless. I don't think I have ever heard my father day that. Ever. I cannot write this without tears coming to my eyes. "Tomorrow is another day" Indeed it is dad. I will see you then.