Today is my father's 73 birthday - a milestone by any stretch, but even more remarkable that he nearly died last year, and has survived two bouts of a very aggressive cancer. At the beginning of the second treatment, he was told to get his affairs in order. They were going to re-mortgage the house to send him to get a specialist treatment in Boston. But he responded well to the drugs, and this morning, we went for a quick stand up paddleboard in freezing Victorian waters - a bit of a loophole surf, as we're not meant to visit people, but if we see people out surfing, that's different - or in the carpark. It felt like nothing short of a miracle. Two years ago I was surfing and missing my father, thinking that I might never surf with him again. But miracles happen. I'll never forget how *shocked* we were when he got the diagnosis. Even more shocked than when he had his heart attack the previous year. He has always been the fittest and healthiest person I know, doing yoga all the way up to his illness (and even doing it in the cancer ward), surfing, kiteboarding, bushwalking, jogging. On top of that, he didn't drink a lot, never had smoked, and he was also a vegetarian. Yep. Dad was *not* a candidate for cancer, or a heart attack. He was shocked to. What was the point, he said, of being so fit all his life, but getting cancer anyway? He was quickly reminded by us and his doctors that his quality of life had been *excellent* up until this point. His philosophy 'just keep moving' had kept him living life to the full. And it was what was going to get him through the very difficult couple of years to follow. In fact, they wouldn't have even tried that aggressive treatment on a man his age who was less fit than him - it would have likely killed him, and very nearly killed Dad. Cancer drugs are hard core. And the 'just keep moving' mantra that had driven his existence didn't stop when the treatment started. Of course there would be days where he was vomiting, or so ill he couldn't move, crying because he genuinely believed he was going to die, and so did we. There were days when the steroids make him so depressed he didn't want to do anything, or he was so tired he couldn't get out of bed. But on his 'up' days, he would 'just keep moving', because even if you have cancer - and perhaps *especially* if you have cancer - physical exercise is good for you.




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Originally posted here: https://hive.blog/hive-120078/@riverflows/happy-birthday-dad-how-a-keep-moving-philosophy-may-have-kept-my-father-alive
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