From Diagnosis to the End...I was twelve years old when my father was diagnosed with cancer. It was springtime, I remember very clearly. He was given less than six months to live. We were told to prepare ourselves as it was unlikely that he would live to see Christmas.
My dad, though, was very stubborn.
He lived those six months...and saw Christmas. He saw spring again and another Christmas. All told he lived five years beyond what the doctor's gave him.
We lost him after his long and courageous battle at 2:10am February 15, 1992.