A New Journey...

Well, I didn't think we would need this blog again, but, unfortunately, we do. My father was diagnosed with cancer recently and this will be your location in cyberspace to get updates on his treatment.

Mike has a tumor in his throat at the base of his tongue on the right side above his epiglottis. He feels fine, other than some discomfort eating certain things as a result of his biopsy. On December 8, he will have an endoscopy and, either A) the tumor will be removed by laser surgery at that same time and ten days later his lymph nodes in his throat will be removed via neck surgery and that will be that or B) the endoscopy will reveal something unforeseen and a course of chemo, radiation or a combo of the two will be decided upon. The doctors feel confident that the former option A looks likely and we are certainly hoping for that.

Our family is grateful for your thoughts and prayers. Please, keep those coming! My father doesn't feel horribly sick or anything like that, so we are VERY grateful. This is going to be a difficult time for Mike and the rest of us that love him, but with love and good humor, we will come out OK. While this cancer diagnosis is probably the worst news I have ever received in my life, because it is my dad, there are still so many things that give me hope.

So often, you hear of people’s “battle” or “fight” with cancer. I understand this mentality. It is comforting to think that it is something that can be defeated. The odd thing is, I don’t think my father will “fight” or “battle” cancer because cancer is incapable of defeating, or even fighting, Mike Flowers.

This may be something that can be cured by medicine, or it my damage my father’s body and even (heaven forbid) hasten his death. But know this; we are all going to die. My wonderful, loving, funny, powerful, open, generous father is going to pass on some day, just as everyone (except for one wonderfully notable exception) will. However, not cancer, nor any other illness or infirmity will be able to sicken or enfeeble my father’s loving spirit. I know he will explore every avenue of treatment and tackle this head on; but my father is indestructible for one reason: he is full of Love. Everyone that knows my father has been touched in some way by this Love. It is the same love that is at the root of all the good things in this world. Everything else is emptiness and falsity. My dad has lived this love everyday of his life. He has shown it to me in thousands of examples big and small. And, he will live the rest of his life, however long it is, with this love in his heart and it will shoot out the ends of his fingertips and touch the good and the bad, the worthy and unworthy alike, because THAT is what love is. It is for all and it is free.

I am very afraid. I am afraid of how the cancer will manifest itself physically. I am afraid of the pain he will experience. I am afraid of how this will affect our family and friends. But one thing I know is that my dad loves me and he knows I love him. Because he is who he is and how he lives his life, there is nothing unsaid. We understand one another. That, of all things, may be the greatest gift my dad has given to me.

Even though he has cancer, he is still here and, actually, he feels just fine. The doctors are cautiously optimistic and he is in considerably good spirits. This is going to be a great trial for both he and my family, but what is life but a series of trials? We will cling to each other and continue loving each other as we did before. There will be pain, suffering, frustration, joy, triumph and laughter. This is life. Sometimes it is harder than others. I heard a pastor once say that everyone has AT LEAST one major “flood” in his or her life. He also said, if you haven’t had one yet, don’t worry, it’s coming. So that is what we do, we paddle like hell and remember whom we are and that love is the only thing that has any meaning.

I am not in denial about this. I am greatly troubled by what I found out tonight because above all else, my dad is one of my best friends. But I am his partner. We will do what needs to be done. When I was little, my father always made it a priority to be home with my sister and I on the weekends. I would wake up on Saturday morning, and he would be out in the family room. The TV would be on “Wild Wild West” or “Laurel and Hardy” or “Little Rascals”. He would say, “Morning, pardner! Your chocolate milk is in the fridge.” And life was very good. It still is. Well, now it is my turn to make sure the channel is on the right station and the chocolate milk is ready for him. I would do anything for him, go anywhere; he is my dad, and I his son and nothing will ever change that. He has given me all that I have. We will be pardners on the trail for as long as it runs. That’s just all there is to it. As I look ahead, I have to smile, because I still can’t see the end of the trail. All I see is the blue sky and the bright, shining sun. Let’s go see what’s just over the horizon.


Stay tuned to this spot for more news.

Much Love,

Adam