My dad saw his local oncologist yesterday. He has deteriorated rapidly and is now so weak that he can barely get around. The doctor said he thinks the six months estimate is wrong. He thinks Dad has three to four weeks.
They did get their hands on an experimental drug, and it's the last chance to shrink the tumor. This isn't cure, but might buy him a little time and relieve some pain. That starts this week, so we'll see how it goes.
At this point, after being through so many disappointments, it's hard to be hopeful.
He is a shadow of the man he used to be, of the man who raised me. He was always a large presence, an imposing figure. Now, he is thin, frail, worn out. A couple of weeks ago, he was able to do a few things in the yard, putter around the house. Now, he can barely walk.
It's all happening so fast. He's being taken a piece at a time, and it's so hard to watch. He deserved better than this.
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