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It's the last thing I wanted to ever hear coming out of a family member's mouth. "I have cancer." That's what my stepdad (who doubles as a second dad to me) told me last week.
He was diagnosed with prostate cancer a month and a half ago, at age 48, and only now is he telling people. He said he didn't want to scare us all before he was educated about his disease. I understand his point, but it doesn't make it any easier.
I think the hardest part is that we just got back from a family rafting vacation trip to the Grand Canyon. The whole time we were floating down the Colorado River, soaking in the sun without a care in the world, he was thinking about his cancer. None of us had a clue.
It brings up a lot of regrets too. I regret being mean to him as a teenager, telling him I hated him for not being my real dad. I regret making fun of him behind his back when I was going through my rebellious high school stage. Mostly, I regret never telling him how much he means to me.
I know it's not too late. He's not dead...in fact, he's not even dying. He has cancer and I believe he's going to beat it. He believes he's going to beat it too, which is most important.
Everyone I've talked to says if you have to have cancer, prostate cancer is the one you want to get. It's beatable, especially when it's caught early enough.
My stepdad's cancer isn't agressive. Doctors say on a scale of 1 to 5, his is a 3. I think those are pretty good odds. The middle is usually a pretty good place to be.
I vow now to have no more regrets. Anyone can get the "C" word, even healthy 48-year-olds. So now more holding back from now on. If I love someone and care a great deal for them, I'll be sure to let them know.
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