I found out a few months back that my dad has terminal cancer (lung, liver and bone) and a year and a half to live. Every since then, my world has been upside down. Before we found out, and dad started chemo, my dad was a strong hard working man who was very social and loved to joke. Now he's very moody, Very sensitive, week and thin. It scares me to see him that way.
I am currently living with him. I suffer from depression and social anxiety, so every hurtful thing he's been saying to me, has felt like a boulder to the chest. I know I shouldn't take it so difficultly, (after all it's the cancer talking and not him) but it kills me inside. The worst part is, is when he gets upset with me, he always feels the need to throw his cancer in my face. Half the time, I feel myself wishing that I could just lose the ability to speak. I hate my own tongue. I've been saying stupid things since I was a child, and each time I pay for it when people laugh at me or yell at me or tell me to be quiet or give me dirty looks.
Sometimes I feel responsible for his cancer. He worked hard at WR Grace, where they mined asbestos, just to make a living for his wife and kids. From working there, he got asbestosis (a lung disease where asbestos scars up your lungs). About ten years later, after finding out he had that, now he finds out he has cancer, somehow linked to the fact that he has asbestosis (I don't fully understand the details of the link, so don't ask me to explain).
I am currently living with him. I suffer from depression and social anxiety, so every hurtful thing he's been saying to me, has felt like a boulder to the chest. I know I shouldn't take it so difficultly, (after all it's the cancer talking and not him) but it kills me inside. The worst part is, is when he gets upset with me, he always feels the need to throw his cancer in my face. Half the time, I feel myself wishing that I could just lose the ability to speak. I hate my own tongue. I've been saying stupid things since I was a child, and each time I pay for it when people laugh at me or yell at me or tell me to be quiet or give me dirty looks.
Sometimes I feel responsible for his cancer. He worked hard at WR Grace, where they mined asbestos, just to make a living for his wife and kids. From working there, he got asbestosis (a lung disease where asbestos scars up your lungs). About ten years later, after finding out he had that, now he finds out he has cancer, somehow linked to the fact that he has asbestosis (I don't fully understand the details of the link, so don't ask me to explain).
