SLIGHTLY OFF THE MARK
I can make fun of anything. It’s my job. For instance, last July, as we stood on a scenic overlook over the Mississippi River in Missouri (you can’t look at the Missouri River in Mississippi), I got a phone call to tell me my father had cancer.
Okay, I can’t make fun of everything.
My Dad had a long, six month fight that wasn’t much fun for anyone, especially since he’d been diagnosed with a type of cancer that has a poor prognosis. (As opposed to a poor proboscis, which wins this column’s unusual word prize by a nose.)
But Dad is one of those people who is always working, so he went to work, kicked cancer in the face, and messed up its proboscis so much that it now looks like proboscis and gravy. His latest checkup is due in a few days (Me? Nervous?), but as of now he’s been declared cancer free.
I won’t go into too much detail, but suffice it to say Dad’s particular cancer, and how advanced it was, makes his cure a miracle … a miracle assisted by modern medicine, just as my father was assisted by the American Cancer Society.
(Suffice, by the way, is the word proboscis beat by a nose. But enough parenthesizing.)
Now, I know what you’re thinking. (Scary, ain’t it? Oops—I parenthesized.) “Mark, you’re not going to use your father’s illness to shill for the Noble County Relay For Life, are you?”
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