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.