March 26th, 1973: Dad started his second series of cobalt today. He says this series tires him out awful bad. But outside of that, he feels just fair. We are concerned now, with a growing lump in his neck, which worries us.
March 26th, 2013: The 26th was a Monday. We'd been home from Tacoma for five days. Dad got a little chance to rest up and rebound from the trip, before this second series of cobalt treatments. The first round involved seven or so, if I remember correctly. I'm not sure of the number they were targeting in this second, and what would be the last series. If there were plans for a third series, they were never needed.
The original diary entry notes that dad commented how the treatments wore on him. But, this was his first treatment. He was either jumping to conclusions, based on the first series. Or, he made the comment the same evening, having returned from another ride to Quincy and back. My diary entry must have been made late in the evening. I almost always wrote my diary from my "office" in the basement. I was out of sight, out of mind, down there. Mom and dad probably thought I was racing my h.o. cars.
His strength and stamina were fading anyway. He didn't have the strength to remain "up" for the treatments. I have no way of knowing where his will to live was. I am of the belief that a person's will accounts for a lot of the battle. In the beginning, the dog was wagging its tail. Dad was in control. Lately, the tail was wagging the dog. Cancer was taking control.
Now the neck issue, noted in that days entry. I wonder if it was on the same side of his body as the shoulder issue? I don't remember. A lump had popped up, catching his, or the doctor's attention. I wonder how this was received? How it was diagnosed?
I know where this story goes. How it ends. With the benefit of hindsight, it doesn't take a rocket scientist to understand that the cancer was spreading. Spreading upwards in his body. Making its way to his brain.