Saturday, February 23, 2013

February 23rd

February 23rd, 1973: Dad just rested today. Waiting for some word tomorrow.

February 23rd, 2013: In looking at the notes I made from memory in 1993, when I last attempted this project, and failed.... I stated, "It looks like there was a lot of waiting around." That may be the understatement of my original diary. And this blog.

"Groundhog Day" for a cancer patient. Repetition. Repetition. Repetition. Do I need to repeat that?

Dad may have, or may not have, been spending some time at the hardware store. I'm thinking it was a 50/50 mixture. If he had the energy for it, he'd want to be there.

Treatments had not begun. He wasn't losing weight. And he really didn't look all that bad. He was still smoking. I think the smoking stopped when the treatments began.

Tears were probably shed in private. The dark cloud was hanging. But the world did not stop. The store was open. I was in school. We ate dinner together every night at the kitchen table.

If I stated much more than those facts. I'd have to make stuff up.

An old pocket knife of dads

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