Though my tears may fall, my hero will remain strong

Yes, he's spoiled -- the only farmer I know who likes the spa as much as Ivana Trump and also has about three assistants who follow him around to perform tasks even the rich do themselves. And, yes again, he can be a bit grumpy at times. But after 45 years of running one of the best dairies in his part of the country, I'd say he's entitled to all of the above.

He's one of the best cattle buyers in New York, if not the U.S., and I'm not just saying that because of my personal attachment to him.

I had the opportunity to watch him in action last week for the first time in many, many years. As I sat back and studied his subtle gestures (that are hard for even those who know him best to detect) while bidding for cows at an auction in Central New York, I was as proud as a daughter could be. The only downside throughout this awesome experience was the disappointment and regret I felt for not having taken an interest in his passion sooner.

During all this, however, I was puzzled. How is it possible for a man -- even a man of his grandeur -- to do business as usual, under these grim circumstances? His face lit up as he worked the auction. His talent was so obvious. He was in his element, and he was happy.

About one month ago, my 52-year-old father was diagnosed with stage IV non-small cell lung cancer. Obviously, the prognosis for a cancer victim at this stage is not good, and I'm holding on for dear life, right there with him, as he battles this disease with only the strength one of his kind has.

This tough-as-nails man won't let you, me, business associates or family members know how cancer has changed his life.

But let me tell you what it's done to me. As my father's only daughter, who lives 1,200 miles from home, this disease has ripped my insides out, turned my world upside down, and broken my heart into a million and one little pieces.

My father is my life, my world, the apple of my eye. Watching him fight this battle is heart-wrenching.

Why do I share this? Well, first of all, I'm a writer, and writers consider writing therapeutic. Second of all, I want to explain to my Bedford County friends, supporters and loyal readers that I may not be around full-time during the next several months.

I've already lost seven years of time with my father by moving to Tennessee in 2002. The guilt of that is almost unbearable at this point, and I don't plan on losing any more time with him than I absolutely have to.

Of course, I love and need my job, and so I will be here, but I have been approved for leave under the Family Medical Leave Act. And I plan on using it.

Last week, I went up there with hopes to get some "good time" in while my father is still feeling well. We had our good times, with a few bumps in between, like when the grumpy old man told me visiting again in three weeks was "a terrible idea" that made no financial sense.

"You don't need to come back until September," he said. I was mad at first, then realized my being home only reminds him of the problem about which he's currently in denial.

I will go back, and hope to experience just as many laughs and tears as I did this past week.

Cancer is bad, and last week tears came often, but the nature of my relationship with my father is one of humor at its best. And that made this trip one of the best trips home I can recall in many years.

For instance, while my father and I were sitting in the hospital's waiting room, waiting for his turn at radiation last week, a doctor came out and said, "What is that smell?" I about died laughing when I looked down at my father and realized farmer Dan had forgotten to change out of his "barn" boots before entering the hospital.

When his hair began falling out last week, rather than getting too upset about it, my father, who has been divorced for five years, went to the salon to have his head shaved. I'm glad he did that, but I think he wanted to see the cute hairstylist and receive a head massage as much as anything. The stylist was 31 years old.

"Well, you're one year older than my daughter so that means I can take you out on a date," he joked with her.

Again, I about fell on the floor laughing at this spirited man's enthusiastic attempt for a date.

At another point in my trip, I was riding in the middle of his cattle truck, my father in the driver's seat, and a friend of his in the passenger's seat. While driving with a load of cows, his friend, a non-farming businessman who I would call a guardian angel (he's been there for my dad through this whole process), was trying to make a business call concerning a mortgage. My father began coughing, hacking and sneezing uncontrollably, and his friend never missed a beat with his phone conversation. I think the person on the other end may have wanted to break off this business deal, probably wondering with what kind of freak he was talking.

I just laughed, thinking what a collision of worlds this is right now. A journalist, a farmer and a broker, all in a cattle truck, sharing an interesting, but definitely good experience together -- one I'll never forget.

Just before my departure, I asked my dad how he was feeling about having to go in for his second round of chemotherapy on Friday. I wouldn't be there to go with him and I felt really bad about that. His response was that he couldn't wait to go to chemo so he could have a six-hour nap, and have some peace and quiet for once in his life.

He was dead serious.

Again, you kind of have to know him and his quirky personality, but I was not expecting that response, and I was crying -- this time due to laughter.

So, in the months to come I will a part-time cowgirl, catching every priceless moment I can with one of the best men I know.

When I'm here, I'll continue to share stories with you, and maybe even provide updates on my dad's condition from time to time (bear with me).

In the meantime, I would urge all of you to participate in the American Cancer Society's Relay For Life, to be held May 29 at Bedford County Agriculture and Education Center. For more information, contact Wendy Stacy at 224-0888.

Farmer Dan and his daughter, and the millions of others affected by this terrible disease, would be most appreciative of your support.

-- Sadie Fowler is lifestyles editor at the Times-Gazette. Her column, Sadie Says, runs every Sunday. She may be reached at sfowler@t-g.com or 684-1200 ext. 214.