Going home...

I'm heading back to Appleton tomorrow to see my dad. I haven't been home since August when we found out he was sick. Yes, I've talked to my parents at least two or three times a week -- it's the best I can do from here to keep in touch and keep up to date with my dad's treatments... but it's hard. I am so nervous to go home and see him tomorrow. In no way has it been easy to be here while he goes thought this, but not being there means I don't have to see him in pain. I don't have to see my mom feed him through the feeding tube because his throat is too sore to swallow even water. I don't have to see him sleep on the couch all day or get ready for his treatments. I don't have to see my mom care for my dad. I can call and get updates and talk to my dad and hear his voice, but I don't have to see it. Stephanie tells me it's really hard to see. I don't know how tough I can be. I have to be strong... for my dad, for my mom, and for my sister. Stephanie says she cries... I've only cried three times -- once at the hospital the moment we went into that damn little room (I knew all too well what comes out of those little rooms -- it wasn't good the first time with my mom and it wasn't good the second time with my dad), I cried after I got in the car after saying goodbye to my mom in the driveway, and I'm crying now. I know going home is what I need to do -- I need to see my dad so I know he's ok. I need to go home and be with my mom and sister... just be around. But I am so scared. I am scared to see my dad hurting. Two years ago I saw my mom this way. That wasn't easy. But I feel like this is worse. My dad's treatments are a bit more drastic than my mom's were -- I just don't know if I'm ready to see it. I know he's going to be ok. I know he is. Nine days and then healing. That's it. But it's hard. It's so hard. And I'm scared. I don't say it often and certainly not out loud. But I am. I am scraed.

I'm going home tomorrow to see my dad. I'll be back Sunday.