Think Good Thoughts for My Dad

Lake Michigan, photo by the author

I spent the afternoon at the hospital with my dad. He had no recollection of his complete confusion last night and I didn’t bring it up. He actually said he had, “a pretty good night.”

I don’t think I slept at all.

We’re not sure what’s coming his way. The doctors can see a large one-inch diameter mass in his lung but they can’t quite tell what it is.

They used one of those foot-long needles and pulled out a ton of fluid from his lung (sorry to the squeamish). We’ll find out the results tomorrow.

We’re all bracing for cancer, which again was delivered by medical professionals as if they were saying, “Please pass the salt.” Absolutely infuriating. I can’t imagine these nurses and doctors would want their family members told about a possible cancer diagnosis with such little regard for everything that comes when talking about cancer.

Today was hard because it was so uneven. One minute dad was clear with organized thoughts and ideas on how to change the educational system in America (seriously), the next minute he couldn’t remember a conversation we’d had 20 seconds ago.

Naturally I cling to the moments of clarity but I worry that something in his brain isn’t working like it did just a couple weeks ago.

I walked home along the lakefront, it was the perfect kind of day; cool, partly sunny, partly cloudy, the lake so still. I always think about my parents when I’m on the lakefront, mom loved it for the people watching and the picnics, dad loved it as his walk home from work and his weekend marathon running spot. Today, I took the walk for my dad because I know how much he’d love to be out here with me.

Think good thoughts for my dad.




A midwesterner’s take on life on the west coast.

Love podcasts or audiobooks? Learn on the go with our new app.

Recommended from Medium

One Scotch Pine

A Step-by-Step Guide to camp whitsett

Chapter Two Early Interest

A little Ghost Story

How my Mother’s Death In 9–11 Shaped My Life

9 reasons to choose a snow blower

See You at the Crossroads

My Great-Grandmother — A Genocide Survivor

Get the Medium app

A button that says 'Download on the App Store', and if clicked it will lead you to the iOS App store
A button that says 'Get it on, Google Play', and if clicked it will lead you to the Google Play store
Amy Squires

Amy Squires

A midwesterner’s take on life on the west coast.

More from Medium

In Light Of The Pandemic, Here Are The 5 Things We Need To Do To Improve The US Healthcare System

10 Research-Proven Running Facts — The Running Physio

Dylan Conrique, Teenager with a Voice and Heart of Gold

Dog years

Theo sleeping on the couch