*Tssssssssssssssss!*

Yes, it's that hot. The Air Conditioning Fan Part Gods did not in fact smile upon my sad person, and I'm still stuck here in mid 90-degree heat with no air conditioning. Sleep was pretty much a joke last night, with my lying in bed uncovered save for a swath of bedsheet over my nether regions. I felt as if I must have looked like Jesus.

My ankles are swollen, and now I'm left with the lingering fear that the part for my heat pump won't even arrive tomorrow, and that I'll have to do the Podcastathon in the crackerbox in which I live, which has been renamed from the Poderosa to the Africa Memorial Hothouse.

Since this is indeed Podcastathon week here in Betland and I told you all about my favorite aunt in the world, Nadine, on Tuesday, I thought tonight I might give you a slight update on my dad.

Dad had a cat scan today. This is because last week, he - finished his chemo! (I'll pause for thunderous applause.)

However, now begins the round of radiation. And frankly, this scares the bejesus out of me. (I'll pause for pats on the shoulder.)

Radiation just burns the body. That's all there is to it. I've seen people go through it, and see what they look like afterwards. I've seen all the other ailments that accrue while the radiation is being burned. But he has to do it, five days a week, and all I can hope for is that he does as well as he did with the chemo.

Well, truth be told, what I hope for is that today's cat scan says, "Hey! You're all better, Dad! You can go home now and live your life!"

But in the harsh world of reality, I know that the radiation will come, and that I'll have to see whatever it brings for Dear Old Dad, good or bad.

However, let's focus a little on the positive. I could not possibly be any prouder of my father. He's been an exemplary cancer patient. And I must admit, at first I was worried. Not only about the disease itself, but about his reaction to it. I saw the effect his macular degeneration had on him, and was afraid finding out he had lung cancer would be the blow that would just send him to the corner, curled into a ball, waiting out his life.

But this has not been the case, my friends and blogees. He took the cancer news way better than the macular news, and he's gone through it like a champion. His outlook is great, he's so positive and upbeat, I've watched him joking around with the nurses at the doctor's office, and about his loss of hair. He's been more active than he was even before the diagnosis, mowing the yard, doing odd jobs around the house, getting out and shopping and visiting with Mom. He's complained about the fatigue from chemo but fought through it, and to be honest, the only thing I've actually seen him get the least depressed over is the traveling back and forth to the doctor over and over.

In fact, I have to say that until radiation came knocking at the door, I've been more worried about my mom, the caretaker, than Dad. (I'll pause for good thoughts towards Mom.)

Anyway, it's been an odd thing. I grew up thinking my dad was The Man. I lived in a family that never fought much, we all get along, and I thought my dad was the strongest, most generous, hardest-working man around. After he retired, I watched him slide into a real decline. He became depressed, and losing his vision depressed him even more. He didn't want to do anything. He didn't want to go anywhere. He was often cranky. Real cranky.

Now that he has cancer, I have my old dad back! He's active, and has a purpose, and has fight in him again. Happy Hour has become one drink, and he no longer smokes.

And he's full of hope. I like hope.

So please, if you can, join us for the Podcastathon, starting Saturday at 9 am and going till Sunday at 9 am.

Betland's Olympic Update:
* Once again, the Podcastathon instructions, and remember, I am going to keep printing these till everyone pledges!

1. Go here, to www.hucklebug.com.
2. Read all about it.
3. It will direct you here, to the American Cancer Society online donation site. It's very user-friendly, and will even let you make a donation in memory of someone, or in someone's honor, and it will send a card for you, too!
4. If you don't feel happy with online stuff, go here. It takes you to a page with the American Cancer Society's address for mail-in contributions. Write a check, stamp an envelope, and let the good times roll.
5. Then - and this is very important - Go right back here, this is the hucklebug.com site. Click where it says "comments," and let us know how much you contributed. You don't have to sign up, sign in, leave your name, or anything else. If you want to be anonymous you can, but you can advertise your generosity to us in all capital letters if you like. We need you to do this so we can keep track of how much we're raising for the American Cancer Society.

OR!

If you want to make a pledge and follow up on it after you know we completed the podcastathon, just go here, to the hucklebug.com site, and say, anonymously or not, "I pledge so much." Then when you know we were successful, contribute online or by mail.