Last week the doctors found a malignant tumor on my dad's liver. He has been struggling to stay alive since a different doctor told him he had, at the most, three months left. That was five years ago. He is a fighter.
My dad's name is Max. We call him the Crow. I don't know why-there must have been a joke somewhere but no one can remember. When I was six he got Hepatitis C from a blood transfusion. It was before they screened the blood for these things. We wouldn't find out about the virus for another twenty years, but it was there, biding its time. When we did find out it was frightening and sad but eventually it became part of our lives. You forget, go into a state of denial. We all think it's going to go on forever anyway.
After the last major episode it changed. When someone is ill with a terminal disease you watch them closely, always waiting for the other shoe to drop. You watch the color of their skin, looking for jaundice. You try to sound casual as you ask them if they are remembering to take their medication. Sometimes he forgets, when your liver stops filtering the toxins from your blood the ammonia builds up in your body. It affects the way you think.
One would think that having years to process the loss of someone dear to you would make it easier, but that isn't so. You are grateful for the notice, you never take them for granted as you do other people you love. Which is stupid because you can lose anyone, anytime.
You never get off the phone without saying I love you. Never. Because you are always aware that it could be the last time.
So now the news we all pretended would never come has arrived. Even though my dad has only 5% of his liver that hasn't been claimed by cirrhosis, it's the liver cancer you fear with Hepatitis C. That's what takes most of them out, and when you are already at end stage the hope that you can fight through surgery, radiation or chemo is slim.
Still he is a fighter. Even though he has felt sick for years he is the most joyful person I know. End stage liver failure is no joke, but he is delighted by each day he gets to be here. He listens to the stories of strangers, drawing the waitresses picture at the Chinese food restaurant, helping the homeless guy get presents for his kids at Christmas; and he never talks about how bad he feels or how scared he must be sometimes.
No matter when I call he will always pick up. He will leave a movie to talk to me. When I have insomnia he will stay up talking to me for hours until I go to sleep, explaining string theory or black holes.
Because he is disabled he spends most of his time in his apartment drawing weird, brilliant sci-fi landscapes or playing music. Last year he taught himself how to play piano. It's amazing, but no one gets to hear it, except me and my five year old daughter-who he has convinced that she, too, is a musical genius. So now she plays piano. He wanted to give that to her, music, because it has saved him in the last year. I have never seen someone take so much joy out of closing their eyes and listening to Maria Callas with the speakers all the way up.
I would like the world, or at least my world, to take a minute and really see what this man has spent his life doing. There may not be a gallery show at this point for him to see his work framed on a wall and think- "I did good"
but there is the internet, and his drawings are unlike anything I have ever seen. So for him, and for the audience itself, I will be posting these drawings on the site and when I go up to take care of him in a few days I will be filming him play the piano and putting that up as well. He would welcome comments, notes, any stories his friends would like to share, love letters, jokes, etc. Here is his Facebook album full of drawings- http://www.facebook.com/?ref=tn_tnmn#!/media/set/?set=a.2005432339066.2099250.1341370895&type=3
I will be posting more in the next few days.

Here is the link to a Chip In page we've created for people who want to help with the expenses of caring for him during this time
- http://maxismydad.chipin.com/max-haralson

Five years ago I wrote a book about my dad-here are some of those stories. Please email me if you're one of his friends and have a story to share as well-
www.maxharalson.blogspot.com



This is my dad, this is what he has done. I think he is amazing.