I'll Never Forget That Day...
The doctor cleared his throat. "I'm sorry, but I have bad news." He paused, then looked at my father. "You have cancer." In high school my dad had been an athlete, an All-American football player. Now he was sick. Very, very sick. He had difficulty breathing and was on oxygen. For eight years he needed a machine to help him breathe. No longer able to work, my father struggled to do the things you and I take for granted, such as getting out of a chair or going to the bathroom. Eventually, he could not make it up the stairs to his bedroom, so he slept downstairs on the den couch. Before too long, the couch was replaced with a hospital bed. (A Hospice nurse was there now too.) One afternoon, Mom was in the kitchen. All of a sudden, she heard my father gasping for air. She ran into the den and saw him staring at the ceiling. She yelled, "Breathe, Paul! Breathe!" The next thing she knew, my dad was gone. Early that evening, I received a phon...
