Things are suddenly happening very fast, and very slow. My father had been having pains so he went in for some exams, then x-rays, an MRI and a CAT scan. And a biopsy, last Friday. He has four growths on his liver and another outside his stomach cavity and it’s been confirmed that they’re cancerous.

I heard most of this over the phone with my mom on Friday afternoon. She told me that my brother was flying out to Colorado this Friday (in two days) after work, staying till Tuesday. I said I would think about doing the same. That night Andy and I happened to watch Best Boy on DVD, and for some reason it was the convincer. My family hasn’t been particularly close since I came out, which was around the same time my brother’s life began to get screwy. Seeing the movie, I knew I would go to Colorado too. On Saturday morning I found an incredibly cheap round trip ticket/rental car package and booked it. I’m flying out Friday and I’ll be there until Tuesday.

It will be nice for all four of us to be in one place at the same time. That hasn’t happened since Christmas of 2005. I’m sure there’ll be some conversations “about the future,” and I’ll feel way too old and adultlike. It’s weird: everything feels so distant right up until the moment when it doesn’t, and feels incredibly close.

Just now I’ve talked with my dad on the phone. He was able to see the specialist today. The growths, some of which are the size of a fist, are inoperable, getting bigger, and terminal. However there are three new cancer drugs (all introduced within the last three years) that have been shown to be amazingly effective. A twice-a-day dose, for the rest of his life, will stop the tumors from growing and over time will actually shrink them so small that they won’t even be visible with a CAT scan.

These drugs cost $8000 a month. My father has no insurance.

There are programs in place through the drug companies and there’s a good chance that he might be able to get the drugs completely free. It involves filling out reams of paperwork and an analysis of his income. My father said that he could have an answer as early as next week.

I don’t feel a lot of anger right now, or despair, or helplessness. Part of me feels like a sick and twisted grin over the fact that my parents, who have vociferously railed against socialized medicine in all its forms for as long as I can remember, will now directly experience the consequences of our idiotic lack of universal heath care. I don’t know what that makes me, exactly. I guess it makes me glad that I’m in good health.