End Game

Over the last week, Dad's been getting worse. He started slipping on Father's Day, when he asked me why I was coming over so early - at 5PM. It progressed through non sequitors - telling Mom that the stereo remote also controls the pump to empty the washbasin - on to conviction that he had to go somewhere to claiming that he had to go home (he WOULD NOT believe us when we told him he was home) to not recognizing us to where he is today: in a coma.

This is, I'm told, typical of this kind of situation - going on a trip is how some people frame their coming death, and the coma is, frankly, a blessing for him and for us.

But he's still dying by inches, and there's nothing I can do.

Some days you're the pigeon...

And today, I'm the statue. Found out day before yesterday that a good SCA friend passed - colon cancer. And today i find out that dad has an infection and low white cell count. He's getting ready for a trandfusion now. Fun.

Tuesday Update

Dad's been having a lot of weakness/tiredness issues lately. Since he breezed through chemo the last time, we were all kinda terrified that he was either having a bad reaction to the chemo (indicative of a poor prognosis) or the brain tumor were expanding (see previous). He had a regular appointment with the oncologist today, and it turns out he has anemia. Praise Maude! Okay, not so much, because he has to get up arse early to get a blood transfusion tomorrow, but anemia can be fixed. Everything else seems okay, even perpetually gloomy 'if you really think you need treatment' Cancer Doctor Lady seemed pleased, and he gets another round of chemo next week. Remission is looking ever more possible.

Really good news!

Parents went to the oncologist yesterday, and all his visible tumors have shrunk, one from 5 com to 1.5. The chemo/radiation worked! If the next couple of courses work, remission is a possibility. Small cell isn't curable - but the longer he's around, the better. I'm very, very happy at this news.

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.

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?