hwan.com

I turned fifty last month. We had a small party with old faces, lots of laughs, and, at least for me, a reminder of the life I had before the pandemic, before having a kid, before my colon surgery . That is to say, a good time, and I hope to have many more like it. I do feel older, in practical, daily ways. For one thing my eyes have gotten much worse over the past year, so bad that I find myself looking over my glasses to look at my phone. My skin is just ravaged by this dry winter air, well beyond anything I'd ever experienced. A lifetime of neglect and sun-exposure has finally caught up to me. While I'm not exactly getting heavy I have noticed a softness building up around my torso. So over the past few months I've taken to doing modified burpees as my daily exercise and have been pretty happy with the results. I do them in small bursts, HIIT-style, and that seems about the pace I can afford, both on a time and energy level. I do try to play video games but I definitely

My dad has three to six months left to live. My sister and I got the news over the weekend, preceded by a discouraging call from my mom saying she had some "news" about my dad. It turns out that the brachytherapy  he'd started last year (as the laser ablation treatments were proving less and less effective) had greatly damaged his liver and that the cancer was now spreading rapidly. I could immediately tell, as we all sat at the kitchen table, that my parents had some serious things to say. I sensed a slight jump in my heartrate but didn't find tears until later that night, my eyes closed and hearing nothing but death's door hovering closer and closer, now more tangible than ever. My dad was very calm about delivering his sentence -- to him, these past 27 years with liver cancer were all a bonus on top of the life he'd already had: growing up in a Japanese-occupied Korea, escaping the violence of the Korean War by travelling south by train and leaving behind f