I was packing up and leave my parents’ house. I gave my dad my bear and he hugged it. And then he says “This is your bear.” And I told him, “Yeah, but I’m leaving him here to watch over you.” And then I left. Like I was five and teddy bears fixed everything. But I couldn’t help myself.
Now, for those of you wondering what the hell I’m talking about – leaving a bear to watch over my dad, let me explain. I’ve been putting off this post because I wasn’t sure I’d be able to get through writing it. But if I don’t start putting some of my feelings down somewhere, I will most likely splinter into pieces. With my luck – at work.
I went on vacation to San Francisco to see Roomie and her husband. I haven’t seen her in a year and him in at least two. I think. It’s hard to keep track sometimes. They just had a new baby as well. It was time to spend some time. (Baby is cute, by the way. I don’t know how people *DO* babies. With the screaming and the crying – but that’s a whole other post.) Anyway. I flew out Saturday, 31 July. I get a phone call on Monday, 2 August. From Dad and Mom. He’s in the hospital. [What?] Has been since Saturday night. [WHAT?!!?] They didn’t tell me before I left how poorly he was feeling because they didn’t want me not to go. [Amg. Heartattackrighthererightnow.] They were doing tests on Dad. They found spots on his liver. Going to do a biopsy. More news in a few days. Dad calls again on Wednesday, 4 August. Biopsy is back. Cancer. [Seriously? What the FALAFEL?!]
I got home on 10 August. 11 August, Dad asks me to drive him to go somewhere. Not go with him. DRIVE him. I thought my heart was going to break right there. Mom calls Thursday, 19 August. Results from his Pet Scan are back. The oncologist says: “It’s Stage IV.” Yes, that’s right. It’s the worst it can get. It’s metastasized – spread throughout his whole body. I barely got through the phone call with my mom. I sent a text message to Roomie to let her know. And she called me. Of course she did. It was a hard phone call only because I was having issues not being a weeping mess on the phone. (Which was why I sent the text message rather than call her.) I posted a note online to a couple social network places. Freckles and iDave – local friends of mine – offered to take me in so I wouldn’t be alone. Which was good. I played Wii Monopoly and had my ass kicked by Freckles.
Anyway. I know this is a very depressing post. And I meant to do Topical Tuesday first. I even made Fembat restart the damn meme just for that purpose. I didn’t want to restart my blog with this post. But – oh well. I’ll get to those. I don’t intend for this to be *just* a place where I pour out my fears for my dad, though I will be doing plenty of that. I had just meant to get the blog going again before putting up “The Most Depressing Post Ever.”
Anyway.
I hope the internet is having a better couple of weeks than I am.
I’m glad you decided to post about it. It will definitely help the acceptance level. My love to you & your family. I will pray for your dad and you. xoxo
I dont think you made me start it again :p On a serious note, I honest do not know what to say. Whenever I hear the C word my brain shuts down and I lose the ability for construct a sentence. Needless to say if you are ever lacking someone to talk to you know where I am *hug*
Thanks to the both of you. I appreciate it. I do.
@Sodapop – I’m hoping. I feel like a small child. Helpless and confused.
@Eliza – my brain is trying to process it. I’m still in denial. Or I cry. Neither of which is constructive.
I didn’t know the whole story until now. This is bad, I am really sorry to read this! 🙁 I wish I was there to be able to support you more. Just know that I’m a phonecall away. Text me, email me, IM me whenever you feel like talking. I am thinking of you! *hugs*
I understand. I went through the same when my Grandfather was diagnosed – he was the closest thing I had to a father figure. Again when Mum was diagnosed stage 3. We went through the mill recently when a Doctor said Mum´s BC had returned – but it turned out he was wrong.
It may not be constructive but it is a natural process. We are thinking of you and sending virtual moral support your way as much as we can *hugz*
My feed reader never tells me when blogs update so I am only just now seeing this.
I am sorry you and your family have to go through this. When my grandmother had lung cancer that spread to her brain, it was rough. The whole “cancer” thing still gives me this bad feeling in my stomach.
If you ever need to vent, I am here. I don’t know if I’ll have any advice, but I have been told I’m a great listener. I will also be sending lots of good vibes your and your dad’s way.