June 6, 1975- that's Matt's birthday. On June 6, 2011 my husband was at the hospital with his father. On June 6, 2011 our family was told that the tumor they found in my FIL was indeed malignant.
When anyone asks Matt, "When's your birthday?" He says, "June 6th...D-Day." Now, I'm no history buff, in fact I failed miserably. What I do know is that this is the day we (160,000 troops) invaded Normandy. It was a quest to defeat Hitler.....
I hate to compare such an awful, historical event to what our family is going through right now, but this is how I feel. What a shitty fucking birthday; not that it was that important at the time, but not only do you have to take your dad to a biopsy procedure, you find out the same day that what they biopsied IS cancer. Now what? No amount of loved filled "Happy Birthday" greetings can take away the sting of the fact that your father has cancer. The morning of Matt's birthday he woke me to tell me he was leaving. I said, "Happy Birthday!!" Matt says, "I hope so....." This isn't even MY dad and I'm a fucking mess. I cannot imagine what my husband, my MIL and my SIL are going through right now.
June 6, 2011 was like our own "D-Day" wasn't it? My family has to be those 160,000 soldiers right now. My family has to help my FIL invade this thing and kill it.......
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