I'm not doing very well...Cancer sage #1
My Dad has been having some health issues. I find this out two days ago. He’s been passing out, he’s weak, he sleeps about 20 hours, getting up only to eat, and his face has been bloating. A side affect of Advil, he thought, so he quit taking it. The bloating subsided for a few days then came back. My Dad has worked HARD all his life, it’s time he slows down but, he’s never been in bad shape, physically. Until recently.
I caught him at work for the 1st time in a week. He said he was waiting on a call from his doctor. They ran a few tests and he should hear from them with-in the hour. That was Friday. Today is Monday. I’ve been calling. I finally got my brother on the phone today, as they are taking my dad to the ER. This morning he had some tests done at his doctor, they found something, possibly a tumor, below his color bone. He was told to go to the ER right away for more tests. That all they know. He’ll call back when they find something out. What the fuck! I feel like I’ve been punched in the gut. All the life knocked right out of me. I feel deflated and small.
He called me back about an hour ago. Could be cancer. They can’t see a correlation between the other symptoms and this lump, so that’s something else. He’s getting a cat scan and it’ll take about 2 hours…he’ll call me back. I asked how he was, emotionally. He said ‘Scared.” My heart is breaking. My Dad is 800 miles away. Scared! This is eating me up. I feel like I can’t breathe. I don’t know what to do or who to call, or if I want to talk to anyone…but him. I called Zeke. I didn’t say much. He said he wishes he could come home, “I do to” I told him. I’m scared. I worked out; it helped for about 45 minutes, until I broke down. I can’t sit; I can’t stop following this through to an awful end. I NEED to be there. GOD DAMN IT. I don’t want to do this. My body is tense and I can’t think straight. I’m not ready for this shit. I’m NOT READY!
I know…Don’t prepare for the worst, wait and see what they say. EASIER said then done. I’m trying to stay out of my head. I can see his eyes. I can feel his hand on mine. When has something that starts out like this EVER turned out fucking peachy? In my experience, I can’t think of any. And even if it does, it doesn’t help the here and now. What he must be going through right now. I keep picturing his face in my head, alone in that MRI, surrounded by blindingly white walls, cold stainless steel tables, and cruel insensitive lights . Scared. My daddy! I don’t know what to do. I wish I was there. My insides hurt, my head hurts, and my face is hot and wet. I miss my daddy. I can’t stop fucking whimpering. I’m a wreck. I find it extreamly hard to talk to people when I feel this way, it's like the words wont come out. So I write.
My brother just called. It's bad. It's cancer. I'm not ready. I talked to my dad for a minute. He doesn't want to leave us. My fucking heart hurts.
I caught him at work for the 1st time in a week. He said he was waiting on a call from his doctor. They ran a few tests and he should hear from them with-in the hour. That was Friday. Today is Monday. I’ve been calling. I finally got my brother on the phone today, as they are taking my dad to the ER. This morning he had some tests done at his doctor, they found something, possibly a tumor, below his color bone. He was told to go to the ER right away for more tests. That all they know. He’ll call back when they find something out. What the fuck! I feel like I’ve been punched in the gut. All the life knocked right out of me. I feel deflated and small.
He called me back about an hour ago. Could be cancer. They can’t see a correlation between the other symptoms and this lump, so that’s something else. He’s getting a cat scan and it’ll take about 2 hours…he’ll call me back. I asked how he was, emotionally. He said ‘Scared.” My heart is breaking. My Dad is 800 miles away. Scared! This is eating me up. I feel like I can’t breathe. I don’t know what to do or who to call, or if I want to talk to anyone…but him. I called Zeke. I didn’t say much. He said he wishes he could come home, “I do to” I told him. I’m scared. I worked out; it helped for about 45 minutes, until I broke down. I can’t sit; I can’t stop following this through to an awful end. I NEED to be there. GOD DAMN IT. I don’t want to do this. My body is tense and I can’t think straight. I’m not ready for this shit. I’m NOT READY!
I know…Don’t prepare for the worst, wait and see what they say. EASIER said then done. I’m trying to stay out of my head. I can see his eyes. I can feel his hand on mine. When has something that starts out like this EVER turned out fucking peachy? In my experience, I can’t think of any. And even if it does, it doesn’t help the here and now. What he must be going through right now. I keep picturing his face in my head, alone in that MRI, surrounded by blindingly white walls, cold stainless steel tables, and cruel insensitive lights . Scared. My daddy! I don’t know what to do. I wish I was there. My insides hurt, my head hurts, and my face is hot and wet. I miss my daddy. I can’t stop fucking whimpering. I’m a wreck. I find it extreamly hard to talk to people when I feel this way, it's like the words wont come out. So I write.
My brother just called. It's bad. It's cancer. I'm not ready. I talked to my dad for a minute. He doesn't want to leave us. My fucking heart hurts.
posted by elanflux at 2:30 PM
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