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Browsing Tag: Pancreatic Cancer Action Network

Seven Years

David and I were talking about Luca, our 14-year-old husky, this morning. Luca’s age has finally caught up with our pup. The dog that used to make us laugh as he galloped around my parents’ huge yard now has legs that give out underneath him. His coat used to be a gorgeous gray-and-white that would make people stop in the street to comment, but now is faded to brown in spots, and is matted and falling out. He still follows the kids around as they play, corralling them, barking furiously if one of them steps out of (his) line–the fierce protector and playmate, always, always watching over us. We’re afraid it’s almost time. This week, I’m not doing so well with that. It’s been seven years since Dad died. Seven years ago this week, we were holding vigil at the hospital, with David running back home a few times a day to let Luca out while the rest of us–Mom, my brother, two-month-old Saoirse and I–huddled in the waiting room, or gathered around Dad’s ICU…

Because I Have to

One of my biggest regrets was that my dad didn’t hold Saoirse the day she was born.  I’ve told you this before, I think? Dad was there, all right, in my recovery room as soon as we were allowed visitors after her birth. He was bundled up in his winter coat with a scarf wrapped around his neck because the chemo made him so, so cold, but I didn’t let him hold her. He’d been at the hospital for twenty-four hours, waiting for me to have the baby who wasn’t in a hurry to come out, even though he was in pain and should’ve been at home, in bed, sleeping. I don’t remember if he was the first one to enter the hospital room after she was born, but he’s the first one I remember seeing. I made a point to remember that moment, remember his face, the way he carried his body, because I guess I knew I’d never see him greet another one of my babies. But I didn’t let him hold her. The nurses had scared…

We’ll Try

David and I ran a 5K called PurpleStride this weekend, along with some very game family members who volunteered to push our children around–all 71 pounds of them, mind you–in a stroller on the coinciding walk.  The whole purpose was to raise funds and awareness for research to find a cure for pancreatic cancer. Only six percent of all people who are diagnosed with pancreatic cancer are alive five years later.  My father was not in this minority.  And the thing with pancreatic cancer is how little it’s discussed, how little money is funnelled to research.  Pancreatic cancer is seen as the lost cause.  I don’t like lost causes.  They annoy me. So we ran. And ran we did.  Holy Moses, that was the pits.  We didn’t find out till we got there that the course was cross-country.  I thought it was a mistake when I saw the start/finish line marked in the grass.  At the base of a hill.  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” I told David.  “They’re joking, right?  This was supposed to be a fun run!&#8221…