Finally A Day With Dad

Well, yesterday we FINALLY got to spend an afternoon with dad. This was the first since he started treatment three weeks ago. He chose yesterday because he starts his second round of chemo on Monday and this is probably the best he'll feel for another few weeks. We all met at Sunol and had a great time. The kids were overjoyed to see him, and so was I. But watching him play with his grandkids all afternoon made me feel great.

I was a little nervous about what to expect. I've seen people undergoing treatment, and I wasn't sure how bad he would look. But as it turned out he just looked like dad. He's lost some wait, but actually looked good. It was an amazing thing to see.

I talked to Jan a little, and could see that it's taking it's toll on her. I wish I knew what to say or do to let her know how much her taking care of my dad means. I know that I can't even begin to imagine what this must be like for her. She told me that his bad days are bad. He gets confused, takes the wrong medication, and does stuff that's just not him. She got a little choked up, and I just wish there was some way to show her.

This is all still very scary, and I wish I knew if this was helping him or not. I wish I knew that he was going to up for another visit like yesterday in three weeks.

Setback Verdict: Minor

Well it was confirmed that my dad did have a pancreatic attack/pancreatitis. As it turns out the very fatty diet they had him on (not his usual diet AT ALL) because of the chemo, caused his pancreas to flair up. He has had pancreatitis before, years ago, causing it to be his "weak link" if you will. Pancreatitis, treated promptly, is not really a big deal (other than be PAINFUL that is), but even a cold is treated quite seriously while undergoing chemo. SO they admitted him, and kept him on a liquid diet until the inflammation went down. Once the attack subsided (by yesterday) they let him slowly work his way back onto solid food, and since he was able to keep the solids down, he was able to return home this afternoon. No worse for the wear, I guess.

The downside to this "minor" setback, something I'm not sure he told anyone else, is while doing the x-rays they found some "spots" on some bone in that area, and decided to do bone scan, because it could possibly be more cancer. They'll know for sure in a couple days. We didn't really talk too much about it, so I'm not really clear on what that means. If they were pretty sure it was, not sure at all either way, or just being safe. So I guess it's just more wait & see...

At least he sounded good, and ... I keep forgetting that soon I won't be able to hear his voice at all. Wow this whole thing sucks. I just wish I knew that he was going to be OK.

Setback

Well I just got a call from my dad a little while ago and he's in the hospital. They suspect he has pancreatitas, which is what he had back when I was a kid. They don't really know for sure, and because they don't know they can't say what impact or relation it may or may not have to the cancer.

It's so up in the air, that I'm kind of in shock. Anything that involves getting admitted into the hospital would have to be considered a setback, but is it a minor one or a major one? I hate questions. I hate not knowing. I hate waiting. I hate cancer. Cancer sucks.

One Of The Good Days

I just got off the phone with my dad, and he sounded much better than he did when I talked to him yesterday. Yesterday when he called he just sounded so worn out, and cut our conversation off after only a minute or two. He was still pretty sick. I just called him today and it was nice to hear his voice. He even talked to Patrick for a few minutes, it was actually Patrick who wanted to call him and say goodnight. He said he was able to eat today, which was great. They said he'd have good days and bad ones. He said radiation has been pretty scary since the nauseau set in because he has to wear a mask over his face that's VERY snug. They assured him though that it only took a second for them to pop it off once he gave them the "sick" signal.

It was just good to hear his voice, especially since once the radiation takes over his body, he won't be able to speak anymore. It's hard to believe he's going to be going through this and we won't even be able to talk to us on the phone for the next coupe months. Awful. I'm going to download yahoo IM so we can chat that way though. Thank God for technology. It's still not the same. My poor daddy.

Chemo

Yesterday dad started his chemo and radiation treatment. I talked to him at the end of the day, and other than being tired (not surprising after that radiation treatment and then the 5 hour chemo drip) he said he was OK. He didn't really sound so hot, but who would?

He said he'd call me today, but he never did. It was strange, because on Sunday he mentioned that his friend that he met, who has the same cancer, started chemo last week. They had been talking every day, until after he started the chemo. Then he stopped calling. I could tell that kind of concerned him.

Well today, when I never heard from dad, I started thinking about it. I didn't want to call and disturb him, if he was not doing good. But at the same time, I really really want him to know I'm thinking about him. So around 7pm, I called. Jan answered. She said  he wasn't doing very good. They had a really rough night, and bad day. He's been pretty sick she said. He was resting, when I called, and couldn't really make it to the phone. 

It sounds like everything I ever knew of or heard about chemo. And it's only going to get worse. I am aching so much for him right now. I know that this is the only option, but man, it's just so bloody awful. My poor dad. I can't even bring the kids to see him, and because I do daycare, I'm scared to go see him myself.

It's all so unreal. We've been talking about it so much that now that it's here, it just doesn't seem real. The kids and I made a care package for him. We painted baby food jars, and filled them with different sized pom poms and gave each one a kiss, just for Grandpa. I filled my jar with about 50 "Hang In There" type quotes. I also took some pictures of them doing it too. I hope it makes him smile.

I just wish I could do more.

Waiting For Treatment To Start

So Dad starts his treatment on Monday. As much as we all seem to have a decent handle on it, there is still this undercurrent of fear. Especially when my dad makes these jokes about dying. I don't know, I just feel like his fears are more than he's really letting on.

It's looking more and more like we (or at least the kids) won't be seeing him while he's undergoing treatment. It's only a few months, but still it's hard. The kids and I made some good wish jars for him. They each filled there's (we each painted one) with different colored and size pom poms, each with a kiss and a hug put on it. I filled mine with about 50 quotes. I hope they'll help make his harder days a little brighter.

I keep wanting to forget that this is happening, but it just hangs over our head like a big menacing cloud. The big dark ones that float by, yet you don't know what it's going to do. Will it rain? If it does for how long and how hard? Or will it simply darken the sky for a moment and then move on?

I wish I knew.

Morning Has Broken

Well a lot has changed in the last week. The oncologists are now in agreement that my dad is in stage 2, and that's a good thing. They are going to do the radiation and chemo treatment at the same time, and that will start May 12. 

He's been going to his classes (educating him on the treatments) and will be fitted for his feeding tube next week. With the radiation, he won't be able to eat, so he'll have to be fed through a tube inserted into his stomach.

They say the treatment will be intense and aggressive, but they seem positive that he may not need surgery after this. Everybody is in pretty good spirits and hoping for the best. I feel much better about this than I did in the beginning, obviously.

My dad even made the comment that he feels he overreacted a little bit. That seems a little silly, but true. You hear the word Cancer and you think the worst. But Cancer is so vague, and there are so many types of Cancer, and so many stages and variations of each cancer. It's hard to really know what your up against in the early days.

I guess we'll just keep taking it one day at a time. That seems to be working so far.

Happy Chemo?

Well today the whole family got together for a BBQ. Since there is a good chance that he will be starting treatment this week, it just seemed right. I'm so glad we did. Everyone had fun, and the mood stayed pretty light.

No one really knows what to expect from the chemo, and when he begins the radiation he won't be able to eat. They'll have to insert a tube into his stomach, and he'll put stuff like ensure into the tube and that's how he'll eat. So it's going to be pretty bad. But if that's what needs to be done to avoid the alternative, then so be it. 

I don't know if I'm handling it better, or just still in that state of shock. I just want to cry. I just love my dad so much, and seeing him with all his loving grandchildren, it just kills me to think that this is anything but the beginning of a bad couple of months. After that it'll be over. And my dad will be here for another 20 years. 

You could see it on everyones mind, but no one said anything. We talked about the big C a little bit, but mainly it was just technical stuff. The thing I want to look forward to the most is going camping after it's all over. I think that would be great. I'm just so scared. Scared for my dad, for me, my brother & sister, the kids, all of us.

I wish I could say things to Jan, that I don't know how to say. It seems so strange to be in a place where the truth of the matter is, I thank God she's there. Admitting that almost feels like a betrayal to my mom, but it's the truth.

I took a million pictures today and a bunch of home video footage. It felt kind of creepy, but I did it anyway. It was a good day, and hopefully this will be the beginning of many more good days where the whole family is together.

Allen even made a cake. We joked with my dad about what we could've written on the cake...

The only time anyone lost it was me, after everyone else had left. When my dad was leaving, I wanted to say so much, and I think I did say what I needed to say. But these words were what kept going through my head as to what I want him to hear when he's at hid darkest moment.
And high up above or down below
When you're too in love to let it go
But if you never try you'll never know
"Just what your worth"

Lights will guide you home
And ignite your bones
And I will try to fix you

Another Day

Am I ever going to get past his state of shock? Will searching on the Internet for good cancer treatment centers and trying to plan a life around chemo and radiation ever seem real? I have a feeling that the answer is no. I'm finally telling people, which I guess is good. It's OK, after that initial, "My dad has cancer" part. That's the line where my voice always cracks. I feel like telling people should make it more real, but it doesn't. The more I talk about it the more detached and surreal it seems, compared to my other life. Life, BC.

I told the kids today, well Patrick. He took it pretty well, but than again I didn't really enforce the seriousness of it either. It seems mute to freak him out now. All he needs to know is he's sick, and the doctors are trying to make him better. Patrick was wondering if the radiation would turn grandpa into the Hulk? Kids have their own way of grasping things. Whatever it takes.

I keep thinking about how as a little girl I hated him drinking & smoking. How scary it was for me. Scary, because this is the kind of thing I feared would happen. It's just not fair. All I can do is pray we get through it. 

Please Dear God & Beloved Goddess,

This man is so much to so many, and the world would be so much less of a place if you took him now. He truly loves all that you've created and has dedicated his life to enjoying your simple wonders. He loves and is deeply loved in return. Please, not now. Please.

Cancer: Week 2

Well here is where we begin. Yesterday my dad got the results back form his CT scan, and they were not able to confirm whether he was in stage 2 or stage 4. Stupid doctors. Regardless, he starts chemo/radiation next week sometime. I'm so scared for him. I just wish he didn't have to got through this. I wish so much. 

One of biggest concerns, if they have to do surgery is the kids. Because it's his tongue, he's so worried about scaring the kids. I told him that was ridiculous. And though I know that's the truth, I couldn't help but ache for him,  just that he even had to entertain the thought. Grandpa, scary? Not in a million.

Jamie & Kiara are coming down this weekend so we can all get together before he starts treatment. No matter how much of a handle I have on it, I still can't really grasp it either. If that makes any sense. I still haven't told the kids. Tomorrow. Maybe it would be better if dad was here? I dunno. He's supposed to be here tomorrow for dinner. It'll be the first time I've actually seen him since all this went down. 

I also contacted the Tibetan Healing academy. A friend of Allen's recommended a Tibetan doctor. I got in touch with them, and hopefully it might be something dad will look into after his initial treatment. 

I just got off the phone with dad, God I love him. He makes me laugh. Even in spite of all that's going on he still makes me laugh.

It's funny how less than a week ago I felt abandoned by my faith. And now, now I feel it all around me. I don't where or how, it's just suddenly here. But I guess that's just how faith works.

Finding That Eye Of The Tiger

Well right now is the best I've felt since we found out about dad's cancer on Wednesday. Wednesday? Only three days ago? Feels like a lifetime already. Anyway, for all the bad stuff that the internet can shove down your throat when looking up any kind of cancer, there can be good things too. I looked up my dad's cancer, (esophageal cancer) only this time I added the word "survivor" to it. I found quite a few stories of people who have survived stage three and even four EC (esophageal). Some are even past their five year mark. It helped me find some of that much needed positivity, that in turn has started to stir the much needed "Eye Of The Tiger". 

I know that there are still many bad bad days ahead, but I can at least revel in the good positive vibes I'm feeling right now. I drove by my old church today. I felt some comfort just driving by it, and I had some very vivid memories of when my dad had pancreatitis a LONG time ago. It was pretty scary, and he was in the hospital for a pretty long time. We were good little Catholics during that time and God was the first person I turned to then. I don't know, I guess I'm just feeling a little less abandoned than I did earlier today.  I just hope that it's not fleeting and that I can keep a grip on it. 

I say that because I also know the real prognosis for my dad's condition is still yet to come. Who knows what those doctors will say. You would think technology would have come far enough to be able to give these answers pretty swiftly. Then again I guess Friday to Monday isn't that long in normal life. Normal life, you know, BC. Before cancer. There's BC and then there's now. Now, one day feels like a lifetime. 

The kids saw both of us (Allen & I) lose it a little this morning. I hate that. I just don't know what to say, because frankly, I don't really know anything. I don't know anything except Dad's got cancer. That's not enough for the kids, they need something more than that. So when we get a clearer picture of what we're dealing with, then we'll figure out what to say to them. 

Dad went camping with Jan this weekend. She's having a pretty hard time with it he said. I feel for her a lot. Next weekend we'll all be getting together, and the weekend of Jamie's b-day. I think we'll be doing a lot of that over the next few months. Well, all in all, I feel positive. So positive infact, I actually don't feel like I'm on the verge of throwing up. It's kind of refreshing.

Wrapping Your MInd Around It

Last night I had a nice chat with Dad. And today. I also talked to my brother for the first time since finding out. It was, weird. I really want to be saying the right things to everybody to make them feel better. I'm just not sure if there is a right thing. I keep trying anyway. Maybe part of it is because I don't want this horrendous feeling of impending doom that is sitting like a knot in the pit of my stomach to show. I pray that it's not. Everyone has all got these positive cancer stories to share, except me. All mine, end badly. They end ugly and they end badly. It sucks. 

I've yet to tell the kids. Dad had his cat scan today, and sees the oncologist Monday. We'll have a better handle on where we stand. Oncologist? God I hate having that word in my life. I didn't last week. But here I am, with it starring at me right in the face. Anyway, once we have a better handle on where things are, then I'll figure out what to tell them. I can't even imagine. I just can't imagine. 

I haven't actually called any of my friends yet either. I mean what's the protocol? I guess there isn't one. I guess I just call and let them feel sad for me, and listen to me cry. That's what they're there for, right? 

I'm a very spiritual person. I always have been, and it's very strange to suddenly feel so abandoned. That's the best word I can think of to describe it. Abandoned. Abandoned by my faith and by my spirituality. I feel them NOWHERE. Why? Just when I need them the most. It's not fair. It's not fair, none of this is fair. 

So This Is Cancer

When I was a kid I used to have this horrible recurring dream where my family and I was being chased with a faceless man in a black cape and hat. I say faceless because I never was able to get a good look at his face. The strange thing was that the dream was always ironic because while we were always running and hiding from the faceless man, we were always trying to catch him to. Neither ever happened and in time the dreams stopped. While in high school I had the dream analyzed by a pychologist who said it was tied in with fearing and trying to conqour alcohlism. It made sense to me, and that was the end of it.

Now though it has occurred to me that maybe it was something else. A fear that I NEVER admitted to anyone until now. Like some people have phobias about different things, mine has always been about cancer. It's been a deep seeded fear that I've always done my best to ignore my whole life, but last week, and well last night, it was something I could no longer ignore. Cancer had come knocking. And there's nothing I can do to keep it from coming in and setting up shop right here in the middle of my damn life. 

Moms and Dads get sick with cancer, I've seen it happen to my friends. I just always denied the possibility that it would happen to my dad. I think about the years when I was a kid, pleasing with him to stop smoking and drinking. And he did, so why now? Why God? Why do my kids have to watch there grandpa go through this? Why me? Why him? I guess, I've always prided myself on being a strong person and that if cancer ever hit my family I would be on that "Eye Of The Tiger" let's fight this attitude like the people you see on TV. But right now, in these first 24 hours since cancer has come into my life, all I can think is that those people are either stupid or big fat liars. Because the only thing I can think  to do is find a great big hole and crawl inside of it and hide. 

The suckiest part about this part of it, is we don't know what's next. Tomorrow dad goes for his cat scan to see where exactly we are in this fight. I don't know how to do this. This whole "cancer" thing. I guess I should find some comfort in the fact that my dad has always had a very "we could get hit by a bus tomorrow" kind of attitude when it comes to feelings and communication with us. So there is nothing I feel that I need to say, because he already knows how I feel about him, our life, our relationship, and all that he's done for me in my life.

I guess I should find some comfort, but I don't. Because all the love and beautiful words, can;t change the fact that I'm not ready. For shit's sake, HE'S not ready to go dammit. 

OH, there it is. There's the fight. ..