Humour in the Face of Death, Part 4

I've arrived back after an exhausting afternoon at my parents' place. My father is a stubborn old fart, so much so that even a mule would turned tail ages ago. He had been told by the palliative care team that he is too frail and that the cancer is too far gone for him to make it up and down the 70 or so rough-cut stairs to the 'tree-house' where they live. Of course, that was just the reason he needed to show them how wrong they were. So up he stood, clothes hanging off a skeleton, red beenie i