And Then She Asked: Did You Hear What Michael Douglas Said?

Today I needed to take my mother to run a quick errand, no big deal. Very uneventful, very mundane... until.

Photo by David Azia

Until she decided to talk to me about Michael Douglas getting throat cancer from oral sex. OK, let's back up. My mother is 83 years old. My mother never talked to me about sex when I was a kid, today she's all chatty about not just any kind of sex, but yes, a little cunnilingus. Awkward, ya think much?

Just for the record, my mother does not care whether or not Mr. Douglas was dining at the Y. Her problem was with whether he got it from his wife, and if he did... why would he tell the world about it. And if he didn't get it from his wife... well that's another story isn't it?

I did my best to keep the conversation as close to the basics as I could, and used the advice of my bestie who always says "less is best." I figured she had her mind made up as to what she was gonna say, and all I could think of was the line from Animal House when John Belushi is ranting about the Germans bombing Pearl Harbor

Yep, forget it, she was rolling.

The quarter mile ride home was like being in the Indy 500, without the speed. It took forever and we went around in circles.

So I just wanted to send a quick thank you to Michael Douglas for the opportunity to spend a few minutes having an in-depth talk with my mother on a topic which rarely makes it into an everyday conversation with friends.

But as usual, Mom was right. Mr Douglas, why would you discuss this in public? Something about this just smells a little ...fishy.

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My Dad's Journey: Three Months Later

Almost three months now. That's how long it has been since our family dynamic changed forever.

I miss my Dad. Although I see him five days out of seven each week, the man who raised me, taught me, and nurtured me..no longer exists. In his place is a haunted soul, painfully aware his life will never get better and terrified of what might still lie ahead.

Yet, he loves me and I know it. And I love him and he knows it. And that is the only thing which makes this nightmare tolerable. There are no longer any smiles when he sees me, no questions about my day. The conversation, such as it is, begins and ends with some worry he has at that moment.

Every action by his caretakers is suspicious. He cannot be convinced there are reasons for their actions, so all activities outside the norm are scary at best. He is getting more confused on certain things, still crystal clear on others.

Recently my niece and her husband were in Chicago. My nephew was able to bring home some ivy from clippings off the outfield wall at Wrigley Field. They brought these clippings from Chicago to Boston, and finally to Jersey...and my Dad. He is so proud of that ivy. It is one of the few things he has deemed "important." It was worth the dumpster dive, Ken...he treasures it.

It has become apparent that he has given up. He goes through the motions of eating, but only because we are there to push him. A food he ate today, may be something he won't even consider tomorrow. Yesterday was the first time he mentioned actual pain. Could it be the cancer is starting to rear its ugly head.. I don't know. I do know he has been lucky to be in so little pain thus far.

He cries so easily now. Goodbyes are increasingly painful for all of us. There no longer is any joy in the visits. We do what we need to do because of the man he was. He deserves this...and so much more.

But at the end of the day...I miss my Dad.

Love you Pops.

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