I was thinking of calling this post 'Quacking the Shits', but decided that might be purposefully robbing myself of that last remaining shred of dignity.
So, edging slowly away from the pun, I shall move onto the point of the post. I had a bad week. That, of course, is slight understatement but I've never been good with the whole 'talking' about 'feelings' thing. My father is sick, he has terminal cancer. We've all made a fantastic effort at ignoring the inevtiable reality for as long as possible but, sadly, his health has started to reach the stage where that simply isn't possible.
Dad is what you might call a stubborn man, there is a very good reason, after all, that he became a lawyer. He has spent the last couple of years taking a grand tour of that lovely river in Egypt. This is to be expected and maybe even praised. What I cannot praise, is the quacks with their juices and their woo.
Early last year, Dad obtained a book that was allegedly written by a 'doctor'. Now, I generally abhor the rampant overuse of the word allegedly, especially by the twits on prime time news, but I feel that it is wholly appropriate for people like this. The man is touting juice as a cure for cancer. My father spent the best part of a year drinking foul concoctions in the hope it would be able to do what modern medicine could not. Of course, it couldn't either.
Leaving Dad's house this week, having taken four attempts to get him standing so he could go to the bathroom, I saw that insult to the good name of books out of the corner of my eye. It was all I could do not to take it with me so I could throw it out of the car at 110 on the freeway. But I didn't. I squished the rage back into its little corner, kissed my stepmum goodbye and left.
I am still angry, though. I am angry that this man made money out of my father. I am angry that my father spent months drinking godawful juices instead of nice juicy steaks and now there are days at a stretch where he can't eat anything. I do not think denial is necessarily a bad thing. I'm not sure that Dad would have had any real enjoyment out of life over these last couple of years if he had faced the truth head on. I am still angry, though. I am angry that people like this allow people like my Dad to miss out on some of life's pleasures chasing after a puff of smoke. Most of all, I am just pissed that he led my lovely father on for some book sales. That is unforgivable.
