Dad has recently experienced hours of increased energy and less pain in the mornings or the afternoons. During these good times, he reads, takes short driveway walks, looks and listens for birds, or writes poetry. He is currently reading Angels by Billy Graham, and yesterday he pointed out two mourning doves in the pine tree. Evenings are saturated with fatigue and pain typically associated with radiation therapy.
The baked potato that he attempted to eat yesterday was only that—an attempt. Today’s lunch menu is not so ambitious: cream of broccoli soup, vanilla pudding, and a soft-cooked egg, all preceded by a dose of numbing medication.
Vanessa, Dad’s wonderful oncology nurse, listened to my telephone report this morning as I described Dad’s up-and-down days, and said reassuringly, “He’s doing great.” “Really?” I asked doubtfully. “Oh, yes. He’s making progress!” she reiterated brightly. “He’s on the mend!”
Dad was encouraged to hear that while he’s not speeding down the road of radiation recovery, at least he’s going the speed limit.
One poetry writing session this week yielded the following poem that Dad is eager to share.
Once I had a friend
I thought him older than me
But in fact he wasn’t that old you see.
What I want to say, we seldom could agree.
When I would teach a Sunday School lesson
Many times he tried to correct my thoughts
I resisted him and fought back.
After more Bible study, I believe he was correct.
Anyway when the bad times arrived
And lung cancer promised my early demise
I found a true friend who would bring a hot meal.
He would haul me to the doctor. No big deal!
I’ve discovered this man loves everyone the same.
He has no favorites, he serves them all.
He taught me a great lesson that’s for sure.
By the way, this Christian man is Dick McClure.