yknow, i completely forgot about that. my dad used to be so afraid of people's reactions that for six years, he told everyone he had cancer. maybe that was part of his lack of acceptance of it. now look at him, he's a little aids activist.

now that i've remembered that, i remember the day someone had me aside at tiffany's.. sandy or vicki, i think.
"so, what kind of cancer does your dad have anyway?"
i mumbled something vague about lymph nodes and nervous systems and neropathy in the feet, and i was sure it was obvious i didn't know what the devil i was talking about. i fiddled with the dishes on the plate and decided it wasn't my place to say anything but i wasn't going to lie on his behalf. so i flat out said so and she reacted the same way they usually do, the solemn apology (which i usually refute) and the quiet understanding.

and i kinda used to have this image of the disease as a bunch of little red blobules with helmets and feets and little daggers fighting each other... these days its more like a body full of blood approaching a steady boil.

he's always up and down, that man. physically, mentally. today he seems allright, he's got an unusually strong gait with his good news of a couple grand more than he thought he was going to get from his insurance settlement. a clean bathroom and a door open to the rainy breeze.

say something newwww.. say something neeeew.. about yooou