My dad has cancer. Pancreatic cancer which has started to spread, to be specific. We initially thought his only problem was a tumor in his kidney, but sadly we've found that to be the least of his problems.
He went to the doctor about it for the first time on February 15, and by March 15 he had started his first round of chemotherapy. Tomorrow he starts the second round of one of his meds. We don't know if they are helping or not. We were told that a complete cure would be "extremely rare", but we are hoping and praying for a miracle. We don't think about "long term" any more. We think about today. We hope my dad doesn't lose any more weight, and that he doesn't catch anything while his defenses are low from the chemo. We hope he can get through the day without throwing up or falling down. The days when he isn't in the hospital, when he can get out of bed and sit in his recliner and maybe even eat something, those are the good days.
I've been spending as much time as possible with my parents. It makes me feel better to be there. But I miss Caradorn and The Kidd when I'm there, which makes me feel selfish.
I want to do something to help, but most of the time there doesn't really seem to be much I can do. My parents don't want to ask for help, so we have to keep trying to find things that need to be done and then we insist on doing them over their objections. And I want to run interference for my parents, because it's amazing how this sort of thing brings out the worst in people. He's had a few nurses caring for him who shouldn't be trusted with any living things. And he's had visitors say the most tactless things - one "friend" laughed about my dad's favorite teams losing in their basketball tournaments, and said "So now you won't have that to worry about" when the watching those games was the only thing my dad had been looking forward to or enjoying. Of course she's the same person who took great delight in telling him something she knew would upset him while he was at a low ebb, alone in his hospital room after throwing up all night. I'm glad I wasn't there; I think I would have punched that busybody in the nose. I hope I don't see her any time soon. I'm sure I would say something I ought to regret later, though frankly I doubt I would regret it.
Three months ago I thought my dad was the healthiest one of our parents; that he'd be around longer than any of the rest of us. Now I don't know what's going to happen. Suddenly things like vacations and "normal life" are a thing of the past. And I feel bad, because Caradorn and The Kidd are working so hard to make up for me being gone. Cardorn has to work really long hours when I'm home to make up for the hours he misses while I'm gone. The Kidd was so looking forward to our spring break trip, and he didn't bat an eye when we canceled it. He just wants my dad to get better. We promised to do something fun with him when we got home from my hometown on Sunday, but instead we stayed far later than we had intended to working on some things and got home just in time for him to go to bed. And he still didn't complain; he understands that my dad comes first right now. He loves my dad more than almost anyone, except maybe my mom.
I appreciate Caradorn more than I can say right now. He's giving up almost all his time to help me and to help my parents because "that's what family does".
And I appreciate all the prayers and positive thoughts that people are sending to my dad. Old friends and new ones, people I barely know, people who I only know by online nicknames . . they are all being so supportive.
I don't know what's going to happen. One day my dad seems like he might be a little stronger and the next he can't even sit up. I don't know when I'll be back to blogging normally again. I don't know when anything will be normal again.
