So, I spent a few days with Dad. 

It was rough. There are really gross things, maybe only one of which I will bring up. 

For the most part, he is hurting. It hurts for him to cough, it hurts for him to laugh, or stand up, sit down, adjust his position in bed, etc. It hurts me to watch.

It definitely sucked to have to remind him to eat, and keep a mental list of the amount of food consumed by him in the day.

The only part that really worried me came Tuesday morning when I woke up to hear him telling someone over the phone that he'd had to empty his catheter bag a couple of times during the night because it had been full of blood. FULL OF BLOOD. Not that a little bit of bloody urine was unusual, but the amount he was experiencing did sound unusual to me. He has to carry the bag around with him, so I know what the urine looks like, normally. I stayed home that morning, though I had planned to go into work for a couple of hours. The bleeding stopped, and so we went on with our day, though I waited until the afternoon to leave to run errands. 

I have to say, that I enjoyed our "tiny walks" up the block five or six houses. And it was nice to be able to make sure he was eating, because he is mostly self sufficient otherwise. I was just a safety net. Just in case something happened. Thank God it didn't.

Also kind of comforting, the vet decided that Emma's tooth didn't need to come out, so she only spent one evening being miserable as she came out of anesthesia from having her teeth cleaned. She is currently living the good life at Dad's - sleeping in his bed with him, probably eating foods that she is not supposed to, and generally forgetting I have ever existed. 

Dad has learned some valuable lessons. All of his previous stomach problems are magnified. So there go the soft tacos the neighbor made for him. His energy lasts about three hours, after which he will suffer a nasty crash if he doesn't rest. Nasty like knock him on his ass, and fill the catheter bag with blood, ya know? It's lovely. I heard him tell someone else on the phone that if someone came to him for advise he would probably tell them to just live with the cancer, and make the most of the time they had left. It is a good thing no one ever told him that. I know that he is suffering, but think of all of the things he will get to enjoy once he is well that he might have missed otherwise if he were to DIE OF PROSTATE CANCER.

Oh yeah, hey Dad - sorry I eaves-dropped on a couple of your phone calls. Your voice carries, and I was bored.