Dooley Noted: 3/1/2014
The world can change in 6 months.
Mine did.
You were diagnosed with a small cell carcinoma. It was wrapped around your trachea and esophagus, choking and starving you.
Your voice left. The cadence I used to hear in your musical voice faded into an unrecognizable whisper.
Your stout, strong body withered into nothingness. Your clothes fell off. You couldn’t breathe or eat.
We were losing you.
I never knew how deeply it would hurt, watching you fade away. There was no preparation. It was a hurt so deep, so stark that I knew it would rip me apart if I didn’t use it.
I used it to push and pull heavy things. I used it for strength instead of demolition. I used it to fuel my teaching and treatments.
I used it to carry on our name.
I used it to make you proud.
Nothing mattered but representing the man you are, the man that gave me life.
I am made of half you and half your beloved wife – an amalgamation of tears and laughter, brilliance and simplicity, love and struggle, work ethic and music, heartache and strength.
I am your daughter, and I carry your name.
Your name is who I am – who we are.
It’s 6 months later, and the cancer has been silenced. We resume our normal lives, but different than we were half a year ago.
When you say, “Hi, Jo!” – it is the father I’ve known for 35 years. It’s not a hoarse voice stifled by cancer. It’s the man so strong you pushed away a car from crushing you.
You pushed away a cancer from crushing you – and from crushing us.
As I watch you recover, I feel worry for you leave as your parental worry for me returns. You are watching me travel to three continents, representing our name.
I want all 7.
As your strength returns, I am just as inspired as I was 6 months ago.
I’m better than I was because you tackled cancer.
Good really can come from any situation, if you can learn recovery and resiliency.
As always, folks, it’s your call.
– Dr. Kathy Dooley