I'll Never Forget That Day...

The doctor cleared his throat. "I'm sorry, but I have bad news." He paused, then looked at my father. "You have cancer." In high school, my dad was an athlete, an All-American football player. Now he was sick. Very sick. He struggled to breathe and was put on oxygen. A machine kept him going, day and night, for the next eight years . He could no longer work. Even standing or going to the bathroom became a struggle. Eventually, he couldn't make it upstairs to bed. He slept on the couch in the den. Later, the couch was replaced by a hospital bed. A hospice nurse was there now too. One afternoon, my mom was in the kitchen when she heard him gasping for air. She ran in and saw him staring at the ceiling. "Breathe, Paul! Breathe!" But it was too late. That evening, the phone rang. "I guess you know why I'm calling," my mom said. "Why?" I replied, though I already knew. ...