Back in May, my dad announced to the family that he has prostate cancer. After some additional testing we got the best possible news - that it is contained to the prostate, and hasn't spread, so it's very get-able. (That's a word, yes it is, dammit.) Early detection is key with cancer, and this was caught as part of a routine physical exam, not because of pain or anything else, so that's good.
I haven't said anything about it before now, since our last major tiff over things I said in my blog I was pretty sure he didn't want me to, people he knows read here and I think he wanted to make sure they didn't hear it here first. I also didn't say anything because it's not that big of a deal, compared to what others on the blogosphere are dealing with.
Late this morning my dad went into surgery, and at this point I have no updates, but do not expect anything to go wrong. These urological oncologist guys do this all the time, it is the number one most diagnosed cancer in men. Basically, if a man lives long enough, he will get prostate cancer. My point is, they know what they're doing.
While I will not go into detail for you, as was done inexplicably for me, as to the nature of the prostate and how this procedure may affect my parent's sex life (eww), suffice to say he should be able to return home late tomorrow, and be back at work in a few days to a week after, especially since he works in a home office and doesn't have to navigate stairs to get to a networked computer. I'm sure he will be back to annoying me with random email problems in no time.
Meanwhile, aside from the stress of that particular situation, I also survived the 8th annual celebration of the birth of my oldest son. It was the longest birthday party I have ever been a part of. It started with a 1:10pm Royals baseball game, at whch we sweated our asses off and drank sugary strawberry soda, snocones, and ate hotdogs and various other junky items. Thankfully, the Royals won. We then drove home and moved the shindig to the neighborhood swimming pool for a cooling off period, then returned home for pizza, cake, and a sleepover that included watching Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade. I passed out around 10:15pm, my husband reports that the boys didn't totally pass out until close to midnight.
Oh, did I mention that on the morning of his birthday, Drew posted a sign to his door that read "My parents HATE ME"? Did you know that at eight years old, the suburban male child can begin exhibiting signs of extreme moodiness that may be compared to that of the surburban pre-teen female? And did you know, dear internets, that if you ask a child to perform his normal chore of feeding the dog breakfast before he rips open another package of legos on his birthday, that he will scream the shrill sound of banshees and fall to the ground in agony? Because ITS NOT FAIR TO DO CHORES AAAIIIIIEEEEE! And then when his father attemps to FIX the situation by telling said child that he shall not speak to his mother that way, including the once sworn off phrase "I will GIVE you something to CRY about", as if that may have been an appropriate time to be concerned about the manners, said child will cry and scream and run to his room and slam the door, and then post notes to his door and possible write letters to the circus to please pick him up next time they are in town, because OMG worst. parents. ever.
All before 9am, people. I considered adding a little something extra to my coffee, if you know what I'm sayin'.
So. That was fun.
Anyway, this has been an interesting week, to say the least. Yesterday morning I started rocking a headache that has yet to fully abate, and by dinnertime was no more than a pile of goo in my bed. Today I have better living through pharmacology, and a visit to the chiropractor also helped. I'm sure it has nothing to do with all of the above stresses (snort), or that little pressure system that spun through courtesy of Hurricane Dolly.
Stay tuned for Friday Wine Goodness. It's a doozy, folks.
PS- update - yes, dad is out of surgery and headed for recovery. All went well.