Good News?

The 'rents visited an oncologist in Holland to get a second opinion, and were told that not only is remission a possibility, Dad might make it years (note the multiple, she said two or three). I'm not sure how I feel about this - everything I've read indicated that metastatic small cell is one of the most aggressive and hard to treat cancers in existence. But I'm still going to hope...

In related news, Dads white cell count was something like .6 at the beginning of the week - NOT GOOD!! But they did more bloodwork today, and it's up closed to 2. Not normal, and we're not going to let anyone with the sniffles be around him, but better.

Need a laugh?

more animals

Truer than I like to think, most days. Mika has decided that jumping up onto my chest while I'm at the laptop, shoving her ass in my face, then sitting down bewteen me and the monitor is FUN!! Attempts to disabuse her of this notion get derailed when she starts purring like a motorboat.

Conflicted Grief

My father's dying, and we're all having blast. Sounds... odd, yes? And we're not having fun all the time, but dad seems to have decided that snark and sarcasm are going to get him through this, so snark and sarcasm it is. And we're laughing, a lot, maybe because laughing is easier than crying.

A couple of stories:

Dad saw a physical therapist at the cancer center because he hasn't been able to walk for a long time, and he's getting tired of sitting. In her snottiest voice, she responded, "You do know you have cancer, right? It's in your lungs and your brain."

And in his most sarcastic voice (what's left of it) he responded, "Don't forget the ribs!"

The Cancer Center gave Mom a great big waste of paper from LiveStrong, Lance Armstrongs foundation. It's basically Cancer for Dummies, dumbed down quite a bit. They define sadness and what can cause sadness, for fuck's sake! It also says that if you can't express your feelings in words, you should paint them. Sister then went to Dad and told him that if he ever needs to express any feelings, he could paint them. She got flipped off for her troubles. Then Sister's best friend M got in on it. Now my parents have fingerpaints, paper, canvas and squirt guns for dad to shoot people who annoy him.

We're getting by.

I don't get migraines

I get tension headaches that mimic migraines to the extent that the sound of typing this post makes me wince. But they're not migraines! Cheezus god, deliver us from bullshit.

Saw a counselor today, it really helped. Cried a lot, but that's kind of the point. Then I got to haul Grandma Cs slow ass all over town - no, no, I couldn't drop her off at home and get her things, she had to go to the store with me. Nearly fell at least three times, nearly giving me a heart attack each time. Because if she went down, I would too, and i get the feeling that would hurt like fuck.

I hate the whole fucking world

I pulled my back (hoisting grandma C off the ground after she fell), I've had to listen to four different people try to tell me what kind of treatment dad should have - none of the doctors. The next person to suggest a macrobiotic diet will be smacked.

Aunt J decided to give a nice lecture about how dad shouldn't take chemo. Ever. "Remember what happened to MJ!" MJ was a high school friend of Mom's who got leukemia. She had a one in a billion reaction to chemo - words cannot even describe how she suffered. So, yeah, I see where she's coming from. But it NOT HER FUCKING DECISION! Dad's doing chemo and radiation for two reasons: to get his balance back (by shrinking the tumor pressing on his balance center) and to give him a few more months. If he'd decided not to do treatment, or that acupuncture and TCM were for him, we'd support him all the way.

And I saw a guy with a lovely bumpersticker:

If I wanted a bitch, I'd get a dog.

I guess warning the population you're a wankstain and waste of oxygen is actually a god thing, though.

I honestly don't know where this concept keeps coming from, but I keep thinking that there's a 'right way' to deal with this whole thing. Maybe if I find the right combination of feelings, everything will get easier. But there isn't, and there won't be, and accepting that my father is dying is going to be the hardest thing I've ever done. And if I'm lucky, my family and I will come out at the end of this a little bit stronger and more self-aware. But without dad.

When did the gods decree that the oldest has to ask the hard questions? Is this law somewhere? Because asking your already on the edge mother if your dying father has an advance medical directive or a do not resuscitate order wasn't on the top of my personal list of Fun Things to do yesterday.

Chemo yesterday, more chemo and some radiation today. Hopefully dad's one of those who can take chemo, because having him sick(er) and (more) miserable all the time would make mom crazier. She's not sleeping - refuses to take the ambien, in case dad needs her at night. Thinking of insisting that hubby and I stay over until sister gets here for the weekend, because mom really needs to sleep.

Chemo and radiation

Those are things that happen to other people, people you barely know. And now ti's happening to my dad. Officially, the radiation is to shrink some of the tumors in his brain and get some function back. The chemo is to fight the rest - the crap in the lungs and bones. But even with all of this, we're only buying him months.

Dad used to be able to cure me with a wave of his finger, or so I thought. Why can't I do the same?

There's no normal in the grieving process

But why the hell do I keep forgetting that I'm going to lose my father for hours at a time? I feel like I should be wallowing in it all the time, that I should be worried about my mom and about him being in pain, so now I feel guilty about it. And I feel guilty about feeling guilty about not thinking about it. Something's wrong in this picture.

Now What?

I'm kind of floundering - how the hell do you deal with something like this? Is there any way to deal with knowing that you father is going to die, probably sooner rather than later? Any way to stop feeling guilty for not pushing him harder to quit smoking? Or for not making him go to the ER sooner? I just... I just don't know, and I don't think reading (books are normally what I turn to first) is going to help. I'm thinking of going back in to Community Mental Health for counseling, because I"m pretty sure that talking to someone who's not in the middle if all of this will help.

It's bad.

The small cell cancer has a five year survival of 10-15% once it's spread. The median survival time is 10 months, and that's about as much as Dad has if (IF) the treatment works. Wow. I'm trying to deal with the fact that we probably won't have him at Christmas.

Oh, gods.

My dad has cancer. My dad has cancer. Small cell carcinoma, undifferentiated. Metastized into the bones and brain from the lungs. And I'm... can you be numb and terrified at the same time? We don't know the prognosis yet, but the oncologist is coming tomorrow. I'm really, really trying to be optimistic.

Turns out the dizziness wasn't the flu, or anything else it's the fucking cancer, pressing on the balance centers of he brain.

"No tears..."

That's what my dad said today. "No tears, I've had a wonderful life." He hasn't gotten a dignosis, but he's already trying to get us ready for the worst. The docs aren't helping - they're pretty much assuming a positive biopsy result and talking about the oncologist coming in to talk about treatment options.

Mom's friends have been activated - they're going to be coming over to offer support and distraction. And I'm trying to figure what the hell kind of system dad's set up for this eBay thing they have going. There's Auction Wizard, and UPS WorldShip, and eBay itself... my head is spinning and the hospital doesn't have wifi so he can just SHOW ME.

I'm having to play Health Nazi for mom - making sure she eats and sleeps, etc. She's calling her doc (the one who looked at dad and pretty much shrugged - 'I dunno') tomorrow for anti anxiety meds. I've given her an Ambien and hopefully she'll get some sleep tonight. Hopefull I will, too.

Other than that, Mrs. Lincoln...

Shite day. Found out that a good SCA friend has less than six months - colon cancer. Went over to my parents to find out that dad's in the hospital. He's been sick for awhile, dizzy and nauseus, but they did an MRI and found a spot in his lung. Biopsy tomorrow. Freakout tonight.

Fun with Superbowl ads!

There were some great ones, some so-so ones, and one jaw-droppingly bad one. Telefloa: FAIL!