My dad lost his battle with cancer. He had it since 1990; almost 19 years. His first doctor said that he only had 3 months to live. We were very fortunate that he made it that long. There is a big difference between 3 months and 19 years. My brother and I aren't even supposed to be here, since he wasn't supposed to have kids. He is missed dearly and we are always thinking of him.

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I actually thought that today was gonna be a good day. It wasn't school that was bad. Today, Intermidiate and Advanced Strings had to stay after school from 3:15 to 6:00 to rehearse for Musicale (AKA: Busch Gardens Festival). Everything was going fine until we finished rehearsal 15 minutes early, so we all had to call our parents to pick us up earlier. My next door neighbor called her dad saying that he was gonna pick us both up and that my little brother is over at his house. I was worried because my dad was supposed to pick me up and take me to the store. So I called my dad's cell phone and there was no answer. So I called my mom's cell phone and asked her where my dad was. They were both at the hospital because my dad wasn't feeling well. This is the whole scenario from my little brother's point of view.

Okay, my brother came home from the bus stop alone, since I was at rehearsal. He knocked on the house door and there was no answer, so he decided to use his key. When he opened the door, he found my dad lying on the floor holding his stomach. He was mumbling, "I think I'm gonna throw up." So my brother helped him up to the sink and he threw up. My brother was scared so he called my mom and told him about my dad's condition and she rushed home to take him to the hospital. You may be thinking, "Why are you going to the hospital for vomiting?" Well, first of all, my dad has cancer. He's had it for almost 14 years. And second of all, my dad was having problems with his gall bladder. He was supposed to get it removed, but he refused to. He is still in the hospital as I am typing this and I hope he gets better.