My father is much weaker than I was expecting, and after our visit to the oncologist today I have an idea of what to expect, especially after my private conversation with the doctor in the hallway out of earshot of my parents. While there is a possibility that the altered chemotherapy program that my father will start in two or three weeks once he has regained at least some strength may attack the cancer and possibly induce a remission, the gestures the doctor used to indicate the extent of the cancer covered the entire abdomen, despite the indirect way he was giving this news to my parents.

While I hope for better, I doubt that my father will live to see the end of this summer, and that life will not be comfortable.

I also fear I may have to play the “bad cop” role in a family drama that will be unnecessary, but will occur anyway.

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