Three years ago today, I personally had an experience with the final days of a man. I can still remember watching this once proud and grown man grow weak and frail as his cancer progressed. I remember this man being healthy only months before lying in a bed, eyes closed and lips pursed, wrestling internally with the rebellious cells of his body and the toxic therapy coursing through his veins. I remember refusing to give into the truth that lay before me.
That this man was my father.
My tumor is situated in the pelvic girdle inside the bone and growing out into the pelvis, and I find it difficult to imagine what it really looks like. I feel that it is an uninvited guest in my body and when I started this cytotoxic treatment I thought: Now this is for you.