You can lead a horse to water ...

... but you can't make him drink.

This idiom has been proven to me in the strongest of ways regarding my father and his health.

My dad is a stubborn man - which certainly explains a lot about me and personality - and has some very serious medical concerns that he seems unwillingly to treat in the ways that numerous doctors have advised. He seems to have some form of cancer on his face. I say "seems" because no biopsy has been taken, therefore, no official or accurate diagnosis has been made. But, with four different doctors glancing at this area and saying, "That looks like cancer to me," I'd venture to say that it is indeed cancer and a biopsy will only confirm their educated guesses.

But, my dad is acting like a complete horse's ass over all of this. Granted, he received substandard treatment - in the form of a consultation - from Johns Hopkins which has left him feeling skeptical of medical professionals in general. Given that experience, I can understand his apprehension to follow through with a radical treatment option before every possible alternate option has been properly addressed and ruled out.

Last night I received a pounding on my front door at 11 o'clock. We had already been in bed, so the beating on the door scared the crap out of both me and Mike. The officer informed me that my dad's wife had been trying to reach me to let me know that my dad had been admitted to the hospital. (His wife wasn't able to reach me via telephone; I suspect she was dialing the wrong number since our phones were working just fine.)

Oh my God.

That's the only thing I could say. My dad has been trying to treat this topical infection on his own and did something more severe happen? Or, was his admittance to the hospital unrelated to his skin cancer and a new condition altogether?

After several unsuccessful attempts at verifying what was going on and the clock quickly approaching midnight, I figured all I could do was try to get some form of sleep and try my best to gather more information during the daylight hours.

This morning I called my dad's house and he answered. I let out a huge sigh of relief; it seemed to be a good sign that he was home AND answered the phone. Obviously, the first thing I asked was "What's going on?" and he proceeded to explain what the police officer's visit was all about.

He went to the E.R. yesterday to hopefully get some antibiotics for his infection. He was admitted and an I.V. drip of antibiotics was started while his doctor scheduled a CT scan. The results of the CT scan revealed an abscess - which I had suspected since my dad told me of his condition nearly a month ago. The doctor told my dad that the hospital wasn't capable of treating him there, so he would be transferred by ambulance to Johns Hopkins.

With that, my dad refused the transfer - thus refusing anytreatment - called his wife to pick him up, and off he went.

As my dad is telling me all of this, I can feel my blood begin to boil. He had his chance to finally receive treatment for this horrendous infection/abscess, and he turned his back on it. Could he actually be more afraid of the treatment than the awful disease that's eating away at him?

I just don't know what to do. I really don't. I can't bear the thought of losing yet another loved one - especially when there's the chance of saving him! And, I understand that it's his body and he's got every right to do with it as he wishes, but how can he not even consider his wife or me in making that decision?

For fear of pushing him out of my life yet again, I held back with most of what I wanted to say. I'm sitting here with my hands tied behind my back and feeling as helpless as I did while Ryan struggled for his life.

I just don't understand this. My little boy fought as hard as he possibly could for life, even though the odds were stacked precariously again him. Yet, my dad doesn't want to put forth any effort to save his, when his prognosis is a far cry better than anything we were given for Ryan.

My father's got hope and he's running in the opposite direction. Ryan had almost no hope and yet he fully embraced every opportunity given to him.

I wish someone could help me understand this ...