It is 6:28 am on a Monday morning. In three hours we (mom, papa, and I) will be on ferry, on our way to Viginia Mason hospital were we will meet with Dr. P. My Papa's cancer is terminal, and so every time I've gone to the Dr. with them I feel a sick sense of looming. Infact, I cannot believe how strong they both have been. I asked them if they ever feel afraid when they go, and they said "Yes, sometimes, but most of the time no." As for my self, as long as I have to go with them, I think a small ting of fear will attach itself to my heart. Its obviously not fair to let it; the last Dr's appt was simple. All Dr. P confirmed was that Papa needs to get stronger, otherwise we cannot do treatment. This is what mom and I have been trying to do for him the last month. Whether or not our making sure he eats on time, sleeps soundly, or has someone with him most of the day has helped his actual health I cannot tell. His spirits, most definitely yes, (except maybe when we are forcing him to eat more than his wimpy cravings for just 700 calories a day!)

This doctors appt scares me specifically because Papa has eluded to the hopes that they put him in the hospital. In all honesty I can't help but wonder, if they do hospitalize him, will he come back? Although he has been hospitalized before and come home, it still frightens me. However, how I feel about the meeting is irrelevant, it must happen and there is now way around it.

Cancer like this is a very strange thing. Some days I get so frustrated that I feel like throwing vases through my parents sliding glass door. Somehow that seems like it would relieve the stress. Sometimes the day will be lovely, and I will focus on how awesome it is that he's still with us. Its almost been two years since his diagnosis, and 1 year and 8 months longer life than the Dr's predicted.

So today we go and see Dr. P. I will be praying a lot of little "help" prayers all day, and hopefully some praise prayers too.