My father has prostate cancer. One of my grandfathers died of lung cancer. An aunt died of breast cancer. A great-grandmother died of (I think) liver cancer. But my father having cancer is different somehow. I guess it’s because he’s my Daddy.
He’s having surgery today to have his prostate removed. We’ve been waiting for this day to come for what seems like forever and what seems like not long at all. He was diagnosed right around the time Adrian was born. I think it was the day after, so almost 3 months ago now.
My little Adrian’s middle name is Lloyd after my father’s first name (which isn’t the name he goes by, but I really like the name).
Chances are everything will be fine. After all, prostate cancer is both extremely common and extremely curable. But it is still nerve-wracking. Cancer is scary no matter how good the odds are.