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 was put on oxygen, and for the next eight years he needed a machine just to help him breathe. He was disabled and unable to work. Even walking to the bathroom became a struggle, and eventually he couldn't climb the stairs at all. He slept on the couch in the den. Later, the couch was replaced by a hospital bed, and a hospice nurse was there too. One afternoon, my mom was in the kitchen when she heard my dad gasping for air. She ran into the den 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 asked, though I already knew the ...