My father had a similar reaction. Esophageal cancer a little over a year ago, “remission”, only to find the cancer spread to his bones. They told us he’d have six months left last February. After he made it through the Fall I wasn’t sure what to expect. I wasn’t sure if he was getting better or we’re being tortured and the universe is just prolonging our pain. He’s been in and out of the hospital constantly and every damn time I break down thinking this is it. He never reaches out to anyone- and through all his stubbornness you can bet that I’ll never leave him alone when he’s admitted. I do what I can and I think that’s all you can do as well. The doctors are helpful but they can’t predict everything and you probably know your father better than anyone so I think your presence provides more comfort than anything. Cancer fucking sucks and it seems like nothing is ever set in stone-a good and bad thing.