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whiski_sourA week from Wednesday (on his birthday), Dad is having surgery to remove some tumors from his bladder. This would be why he's been having so much trouble peeing lately. With the tumors removed, his peeing problems should abate and I will no longer have to listen to him bitch about it.
This is outpatient surgery provided there are no complications. We won't know for sure if the tumors are malignant until after they're tested after the surgery, but Dad has been researching things on the Internet (because every doctor is fucking dumbass according to him) and he's convinced it's cancer because bladder tumors usually are, so he's been spreading doom and gloom through the house. I'd like to think that he's been logical and explaining every possible scenario, but really he's just assuming the worst and being a harbinger of doom.
I'm sure he's upset and worried and nervous and scared and had he and my mother not beaten the sympathy out of me because they felt my sensitivity was sign of weakness, then maybe I could be more emotionally supportive. Unfortunately, you reap what you sow and instead he gets a wise-cracking smartass trying to figure out what I'm going to do while he's in surgery and how I'm going to deal with him post-op because, as stated, I'm not the good, caring daughter he was hoping to take care of him.
Make no mistake, I love my dad. I hope he comes through the surgery well and I hope it's not cancer and if it is cancer, it's treated and he recovers fully. And I want him to be able to pee normally again.
Because, dear laws, I am sick of the whining.
That's going to be the true test of his recovery. Whether or not I kill him.
This is outpatient surgery provided there are no complications. We won't know for sure if the tumors are malignant until after they're tested after the surgery, but Dad has been researching things on the Internet (because every doctor is fucking dumbass according to him) and he's convinced it's cancer because bladder tumors usually are, so he's been spreading doom and gloom through the house. I'd like to think that he's been logical and explaining every possible scenario, but really he's just assuming the worst and being a harbinger of doom.
I'm sure he's upset and worried and nervous and scared and had he and my mother not beaten the sympathy out of me because they felt my sensitivity was sign of weakness, then maybe I could be more emotionally supportive. Unfortunately, you reap what you sow and instead he gets a wise-cracking smartass trying to figure out what I'm going to do while he's in surgery and how I'm going to deal with him post-op because, as stated, I'm not the good, caring daughter he was hoping to take care of him.
Make no mistake, I love my dad. I hope he comes through the surgery well and I hope it's not cancer and if it is cancer, it's treated and he recovers fully. And I want him to be able to pee normally again.
Because, dear laws, I am sick of the whining.
That's going to be the true test of his recovery. Whether or not I kill him.
