Dad was first diagnosed in March 2019. I had not spoken to him for nearly fours years. This is not unusual for our relationship, it has been the same for as long as I can remember. I have struggled to accept this over the years, the constant disappointment, the anger and feeling of rejection. When he was in my life it was great, it was always awkward at first as it was usually a long time between seeing him and not. But I learned to forget, I learned to push all of those feelings of abandonment aside because he was back and he wanted to spend time with me. Just to say the word 'dad' to someone felt almost magical and made me feel...whole I guess. Then as quickly as he arrived, he would be gone. Not moved away or anything as drastic as that and never immediate but over the course of time the phone calls would get less and less, he would come over less. I would know what was happening and dig deep and try to keep it going but eventually, it would fizzle out to nothing and I would move on again, confused, rejected, angry...until the next time. 
I wrote him a letter once to tell him how I felt, that I no longer needed him, that I didn't want him in mine or my kid's life as I would not let him walk out on them as he had me. The letter was intended to hurt, whether it did or not I don't know but he didn't respond. 
History repeated itself once more and he was back after about 3-4 years. It was harder to swallow the bitterness but I did. The contact remained for the longest time. He came to my wedding and although he didn't give me away, he took the most beautiful wedding photos and gave the most amazing speech. We even had a father, daughter dance. It was honestly one of the best moments of my life. Then comes my 40th birthday. A few months before we had all celebrated his 60th, all 'his girls' together but he didn't turn up to my surprise 40th my husband arranged and that was it, he was gone again. 
This time would be different for me. The memories of my wedding, the joy I felt dancing with him and listening to him say beautiful things about me were tainted, it all felt like a lie. I made my peace with choosing to have no more contact, I promised that I would not allow myself to hurt like that again, so even when my older sister got in touch with him, I kept away, wanted nothing to do with him.
Then he got sick. It started with having trouble swallowing, a doctors appointment, a laparoscopy, 'it could be cancer', to stage 4 oesophageal and stomach cancer diagnosis with a 19% chance of survival.
What the hell was I supposed to do - I had a choice to make. Bury the inside feelings deep enough so they couldn't get out and support my dad or walk away.
There was only one option for me. I picked up the phone and dialled his number.