I made a rule. After my step-father was diagnosed as severely anemic and was sent off to have infusions while waiting for tests to be run. After my mother came through her polyp-removal surgery with flying colours. I made a rule. A one-parent-at-a-time-in-the-hospital rule. Which, frankly, my dad had pretty much sealed up for the next year.
No one listens to my rules.
My step-father was admitted today, for bowel cancer part the second. Probably not a reoccurrence, as that section of bowel was removed, and this one has a very different phenotype. Phenotype = worse. From a CT scan, which is all we have to go on right now, it has poked through the intestinal wall and is infringing on a kidney. The kidney is actually the source of the pain that sent him to the ER, but the cancer is certainly the root cause of the anemia that has dogged him for four months now (a hole in your bowel will do that).
We don’t know much. We’ll know more later, but certainly major surgery, recovery, chemo, and all that jazz have just reentered the picture. He’s in much frailer health than three years ago, and his diabetes is in full swing. I am worried, obviously.
My limits of worry had already been reached, now I’m just repartitioning existing worry into new baskets.