When I started this entry, I could have used the phrase "Beware the Ides of March" for a title. But it didn't come to mind until too late, and when the theme was already in my mind.
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My dad has been having problems with his health for a while. When he finally talked about blood in his urine, we knew to get him to a doctor quick. Yesterday, the doctor removed a 6 cm tumor from his bladder, and things don't look that good. Yes, at 88, he has lived more years than most men of his era had a right to expect to live. And I hope that he can live a healthy life for many more years. But first, we have to find out whether he needs treatment, whether treatment will be useful, and whether he wants to take it.
I'm still in a mild state of shock while writing this. My parents were a mixed bag. Mom tried to hold on to my brother and I (emotionally) way too closely - and as a result, squeezed us away from her choking embrace. Neither my brother nor I have happy memories of her, and neither of us miss her. My dad, however, was more distant - knowing that affection can not be forced. As a result, I care for my dad, and will miss him terribly when he eventually passes away. (No, I'm not counting him out. But the thought of cancer bothers me a great deal, as I've seen my wife die of her cancer - and I'd rather commit suicide than die the way she did.) One thing I know - I won't tell my dad that I'm transgender. He doesn't need any more stress in his life.
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Luckily, my boss knows that my dad is ill. And I feel that I'll get the flex time to deal with family matters when I need it. Thankfully, I'll have my time as Marian to take the edge off things.....