Just another three days at the Cancer Center
Even though my dad is on a Chemo holiday until September, this week has not been much of a vacation. In fact, I’ve come to realize, fighting cancer is an honest to goodness full time job.
Monday: Since my dad is part of a study he still needs to go in every three weeks and get his blood drawn just to make sure all the numbers are good.
Tuesday: Found out his hemoglobin was REALLY low, so he got to experience his first blood transfusion. That takes around 6 hours if you are wondering.
Wednesday: Off to consult with the Radiologist about nagging hip pain. Check out the socks.
Never a dull moment with Cancer!
Filed under cancer, Dad | Comment (1)Dads
Dad, husband, father-in-law…whatever kind of daddy you are, have a GREAT day.
Happy Father’s Day!
Filed under Dad, Family, parenting | Comment (0)Put a fork in it
Today marks the day of my Dad’s 12th round of Chemo, the final round. A day to celebrate, be happy, take note that things are going well. His bone scans are better than when he started nine months ago, yet another cause to roar.
It hasn’t been an easy road. Chemo is a drain and the longer it goes on the harder it is to rise back up to its next invitation. But to know that he gets a break is worth a cheer. The thought of a touch more energy…fabulous.
The agony for me is in what lies ahead. The unknown. The monthly visits to the cancer center to see if you are going to get hit in the stomach again. To see what the next course of action is.
But today is a day to put those thoughts away. We must celebrate this day and this moment, for we have made it through this tunnel, all the while watching my Father tell cancer to Fuck Off!
Way to go Dad!
Filed under cancer, Dad, Family | Comments (2)Happy 74th Birthday Dad!!!
I’m so glad you’re still kick’n.
Seriously…I am.
Love you!
Filed under Dad | Comment (0)The Sales Man shall rise again
I was talking with my parents last night and we were firming up our Easter plans. I told my dad that he would not burst into flames upon entering our church.
You see the church our family goes to was introduced to me BY MY FATHER, many, many years ago. He certainly never thought I would become a parishioner back in those days, I was 14.
Well, we did. And now, the masses are so wonderful that we choose to go there on the BIG Catholic days (and every other Sunday) and since my dad is old school he would rather come with us and be together and bite his tongue than go to church without his family.
Needless to say, when I said that he would not turn into flames, he immediately asked my why I said that and then explained that he had been having some not so great dreams.
When I asked him about them he recounted the most recent.
Your mother brought me to a cancer center to live. EVERYONE was dying. A whole room full of beds, in the round, all dying. He didn’t want stay and turned to my mom and said, I’m not going to stay here but I will certainly sell the service. Then all of a sudden a large group of Sales Men with thick black hair came out and wanted to talk with him to find out what he knew.
The great thing about this dream, my dad can sell shit off the bottom of his shoe, and if his subconscious is still fighting and selling and trying to teach or beat the guys with the full-thick-heads of hair, then there still is a war worth fighting.
Sell dad sell, as long as you can.
Ashes
Today is Ash Wednesday for those of you non-Catholics out there or recovering Catholics or Catholics who like to forget all about Lent in general.
For the past few years I have been meeting my parents at church for Ash Wednesday services. Two years ago, we knew there was something wrong with my dad, he had had all his tests and scans but the final report had not come down the pipe line yet.
Two years ago, I remember sitting in church watching an old grade school classmate and her family on Ash Wednesday. Her father had esophageal cancer. He was not doing well. His three girls and his wife where there with him. After mass they went to the back of church, lit candles, prayed and cried. I remember those girls so clearly being so distraught at what was happening to their dad, their family, their lives.
I strongly remember the feeling of dread that came over me that day. Knowing there was something wrong. Wondering how bad the news was going to be and wondering how many more Ash Wednesday services we would have left together or how many more Ash Wednesdays it would be until I found myself in the back of church lighting candles, praying and crying.
My classmates father died last year.
My father will die too.
Just as yours has or will.
So on this Ash Wednesday, I not only see the start of Lent but I feel all over again the fear and the dread of how my dad’s battle with cancer will continue.
Thank goodness on most every other day, I can set that aside and realize that we still have time, hopefully a lot of time.
Filed under cancer, Dad, Family | Comment (0)Starting the New Year out right
Today we went in to see my dad’s Oncologist and hang out with him while he completed his 5th round of Chemo.
On the 19th of December, he went in to the hospital so they could run a battery of tests (blood, bone scan and CT scan) to see if the Chemo was working.
The good news of 09 is that there are no new caner lesions on his bones and that it has not spread to any internal organs.
After watching him go through the worst month of Chemo to date, it was nice to see a smile on his (and my mom’s) face and a little ray of hope shine through the air.
Filed under cancer, Dad | Comment (1)Friday
On the bright side…a possible cure for unruly ear hair.
Filed under Dad, House Hold Chores, Pictures | Comment (0)Today’s fortune cookie say…
At lunch with my Dad and KP today, I received this message.
Filed under current events, Dad | Comment (1)Is Grandpa going to die?
Is what KP asked me this morning, while I was sobbing in the Target parking lot on my cell phone, while retelling what happened at my dad’s oncologist visit to Jennifer.
It has hit. The hammer has come down. There is another change.
My dad’s psa levels are on the rise again, along with increased bone pain and stability. The news, and what my father has dreaded most “you now need chemo”, in order to help his metastasized prostate cancer, has come to roost. His doctor told us today, after hormone therapy and then another drug of choice have both worked for a bit and failed, that chemo is next. And he has wanted NOTHING to do with it since this whole ordeal began.
As I found out today, to my dad, chemo = death. His doctor told him that it is not the chemo that is going to kill him, it’s the disease. So do what you can. And with those words alone, the tide shifted slightly.
Oh I’m not here to tell you he’s happy about this next step, but he is opening the door and knows there is not much choice (I think the doctor said it best, your choice is this or Hospice) but to walk through it.
So today, after the tears had fallen and the news had sunk in a little deeper, we did what we do best, we went out to relish the sunshine, get an ice cream cone and enjoyed each others company.
And then, he asked Adam to shave his head.
