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11:18am July 10, 2014

I guess I’d tricked myself into believing we had more time.

Like I knew that my dad’s cancer wasn’t good, and my gut told me we didn’t have long regardless of what doctors were saying about maybe a year if everything went well.  But somehow I kept thinking, maybe it’ll be six months, maybe he can finish his book, maybe…

And maybe all those things can still happen.

But it all hinged on the chemo working, and so far it’s not.  Of course, you can’t always tell from the first chemo treatment whether it’s working.  But I have a bad feeling about all this.

I can’t concentrate.  I can’t watch movies.  I can’t read.  I can’t even begin to crochet.  I feel like everything is wrong in a huge way.  I don’t know how long he’s got left.  I don’t like not knowing.