Pretty Fucking Far From Okay

Remember that scene in Pulp Fiction where Butch rescues Marsellus? Upon Butch asking him if he's ok, Marsellus responds, "Naw man. I'm pretty fuckin' far from okay." That line keeps running through my head every time someone asks me how I'm doing. I have come a long way over the past few weeks, but some days are still harder than others. This story is going to be long, so I hope you have some time on your hands.

On March 25^th, I lost my dad. It wasn’t supposed to happen so soon. He was admitted to the hospital that Monday (the 24th) due to low blood pressure and low Oxygen levels. They were supposed to make him feel better and send him home. No one in my family expected my dad to pass away when he did, that is why I was still in TX and not in NC when it happened. Instead of making him feel better, one of the nurses accidentally overdosed him on pain meds. He didn’t come back from it. Ben called me at work that day to tell me we needed to fly to NC asap. I left work in tears, but expected to be able to see my dad when we arrived in Fayetteville. I knew he wouldn’t be in the best shape, but I expected to be able to go see him, hold his hand, and talk to him at the hospital. That wasn’t in the cards. When my sister picked us up from the airport, she had to break the news to me that our dad didn’t make it. Only those of you who have lost a parent, know what that feels like. It sucks. At that time I was 17 weeks pregnant. We hadn’t even found out the sex of the baby yet. As I tried to process everything, I told Ben that maybe it was the right time for him to go. Had my dad passed away any later in the year, I wouldn’t have been able to travel home due to the pregnancy.

Through all of this, I was able to use the baby to help me find hope during my grief. Two weeks after my dad died, Ben and I found out that we were having a boy. We were ecstatic. The same day as the ultrasound, we got a call from the doc and found out that there might be some problems with the baby. Nothing was certain at the time, so we figured it was a fluke and carried on with our planning.

**The rest of this is going to be quite vague because I really don’t think it’s anyone else’s business what exactly went wrong.**

Let's just say that I went to the doctor A LOT over the course of the following few weeks. With each appointment came more heartbreak and trying to hold things together. At 23 weeks, I delivered my silent baby boy. I was induced, I went through labor, and I had a natural delivery. I am now a mother, but have no baby to show for it. Just when I thought that everything was over, I could start to move on, my milk came in. Another big FUCK YOU from the powers that be. My body is back to normal now. My boobs have shrunk back to tiny and I've stopped bleeding. My doctor cleared me to finally start exercising, which is good, since I have baby weight to lose. It's funny how fast your body can physically heal. Emotionally, it's another story.

Losing a parent is hard, losing a baby is even harder. Having both happen within a month of each other is a total mind fuck. I have gone through a ton of emotions, but the two I am hanging on to are lack of patience and anger. I'm not sure if it's lack of patience or no empathy. I find it really hard to give a shit about other people's insignificant problems. I'd give examples, but it would make me come off as a heartless human being and usually I'm quite sweet. Now, anger. To say that I am a pissed off is putting it mildly. You know how people always say that you're never given more than you can handle? Well, that is bullshit. I'm handling it, but that's my only option. I can either pick myself up and move on or just check out of reality. I've decided to pick myself up and move on.

I am lucky to have an amazing support group made up of friends and family, but more importantly, I am lucky to have Ben. Our bond has only been strengthened by the suckfest we have endured. I'm also thankful that my new job (started in February) has been so understanding and accommodating over the past two months. If it wasn't for all of these factors, I would most likely be in a darker place right now.

I haven't been very religious for some time. All of this sure hasn't helped matters. However, it does give me comfort to think that somewhere, my dad is hanging out with my son. I hope he's teaching him how to cuss and pee in the yard.

My Dad

This past July, my dad was diagnosed with stage IV lung cancer. The tumor was deemed inoperable and the cancer had metastasized to his adrenal glands and spine. The doctors told us there was nothing they could do except prolong his life with radiation and chemotherapy. The cancer was terminal. As you can imagine, this was a big blow to my family and me.

Once we found this out, I took a week off work and went to Fayetteville to spend time with my dad. I made him eat a lot, we did some yard work, and went to his radiation appointments. Lots of family came by, I met some people he worked with, and we sat around watching tv. Nothing too exciting, but I knew this was probably the healthiest I’d ever see my dad again. We got the immediate family together and had family pictures done for the first time in 27 years.

I haven’t really told a lot of people about all of this. It’s not easy to talk about. It took me a month or so before I could talk about it without bursting into tears. Hell, I’m tearing up now just writing about it. I wanted to field a couple of questions and responses I’ve been getting from those I have told.

1.      How’s your dad doing?

While I appreciate you caring enough to ask me this question, the truthful answer is he’s dying and it sucks more than anything has ever sucked in the history of suck. Please don’t ask me this question if you see me out trying to have a good time. It kind of ruins my evening. Also, don’t ask this if you can’t deal with the answer. It’s funny how uncomfortable people get when you give them an honest, emotional answer.

2.      How are you dealing with everything?

I’m on an emotional rollercoaster. I’m sure I have some of these pregnancy hormones to thank for that. Most days, I’m fine. I’m not the one fighting cancer. I do tend to tear up quite a bit and sometimes become a sobbing mess while in the shower. I try to find humor in things, like the fact that my dad and I have recently bonded over hemorrhoids.

3.      Time is so precious, spend as much time with him as you can.

Thanks! I haven’t thought of this or mulled over the fact that I live ~1200 miles away. There is absolutely no way I’m going to be able to spend as much time with my dad as I want. Phone calls and skype will have to suffice.

4.      How’s your mom handling everything?

She’s keeping it together for everyone else. I’ve asked her a couple of times and I’m pretty sure she’s not telling me the truth. She’s also doing fine, same as my dad if you ask him. Gotta love this stubborn duo.

5.      Your family is in my prayers.

Thank you. I appreciate the gesture and the fact that you are thinking about us.

6.      Any combination of, “The Lord works in mysterious ways,” “The Big Man Upstairs has a Plan,” “God has a Path we Each Must Walk.”

These phrases make me want to punch you in the face. Knowing that God had a plan for my dad to get cancer and suffer the way he is currently suffering only makes me angry and resentful. This does not help.

 
My dad is a stubborn man. I think his stubbornness paired with his sense of humor will keep him fighting for a lot longer than we all expect. My only hope is that he gets to meet his new grand-baby at the end of August. Maybe they’ll share the same birthday.