4 to 6...Cancer #7
This one is from the 10th of Sept.
Dad's home. His breathing is labored and he was swelling up last night. His face, neck, arms, well, everything was swollen. The tumor is putting pressure on blood vessels going from his heart to his brain and back. This causes bloating, among other things. His voice is raspy and he coughs so hard I'm surprised his diseased lung doesn't come flying out...wouldn't that be nice. This tumor is entangled in vocal cords, blood vessels, his esophagus, two main arteries, and the top of his right lung. He can't take 5 steps without needing something to hold on to and oxygen from a tank. This is one of the single most horrific things I have ever gone through to date. I can’t even imagine what he must be going through. My dad is, was, a very physically strong man. Biker tough guy, until HE ALLOWED smoking to take that away from him. I say these things, because if you smoke I’m going to ask you to quit. “Who are you?”, you might ask. I am a grown ass woman who is nothing but a broken child faced with her fathers premature death, that’s who I am. This is quite possibly a completely avoidable series of events. The risks are real, and it can happen to you. The doctor told me today that realistically my dad has 4 to 6 months to live. 15% of people in this situation survive 2 years. Without treatment he'd be gone already. When he told me that, I felt something die inside of me. Literally, something sank and wilted. I mean, I think I held my own, I took the information in stride, but inside I was loosing control. Inside I was screaming at him, calling him all kinds of asshole and quack, telling him to shut up and give me something I could cling to. Anything, a word, a phrase I could grasp onto that meant anything other then the end. Some hope, but he didn’t. I stood there numb, choking on my own optimism. I asked him to be frank with me, he said, “This will not end well.” I couldn’t hear anything else beyond that. I just thanked him and excused myself. I don’t remember walking out of his office. I found myself in the bathroom of the 2nd floor oncology wing, on the floor, holding my knees, staring. I was close to tears but, they wouldn’t come, nothing would. Fragments of words floated in and out of my mind so fast I couldn’t make anything of them. I couldn’t put a thought together to save my life. I was so positive, even with what he said I couldn’t wrap my head around the truth of it, the certainty in his voice. I kept searching for some glimmer of hope in his words, but I couldn’t find any. I wretched myself off of the floor and went to the vanity to make sure I was presentable before heading back out into the spot light. I found I had been crying, the reflection I saw showed a blotchy, wet, mess. At that moment I felt everything I thought I wasn’t feeling on the floor come crashing into me. The horror in the eyes looking back at me was alarming. It was like I was looking at a stranger. The weight of his words had finally hit me.
For the next two days I spend a lot of time alone. No matter what I was doing, no matter how involved I was, “4 to 6” popped into my mind unexpectedly and I burst into tears. And to add to this misery, I was the only one who knew. I had decided that, brother, step-mom, and dad should know, but how do I tell them. What if they don’t want to know? How can I bring it up? I can’t hold this in much longer, but in the same breath, I can’t get it out.
Do you think given this info 5 years ago he would have prevented this pain? Maybe. Will you?
Look, I know it's tough. Even the thought makes you light up. But take it from me, an ex-smoker, it's worth it. I feel better. I can drive a car without one. I don't have to 'make sure I have enough' before I do...everything. I won't lie, I do get an urge every once in a while but it passes without catastrophe. Before, I would panic or throw a fit, my emotions went crazy when I needed and didn't have a smoke. Now? It passes without notice. Please. For the people you love, if not for fear of going through this yourself, do whatever you need to do to quit.
Dad's home. His breathing is labored and he was swelling up last night. His face, neck, arms, well, everything was swollen. The tumor is putting pressure on blood vessels going from his heart to his brain and back. This causes bloating, among other things. His voice is raspy and he coughs so hard I'm surprised his diseased lung doesn't come flying out...wouldn't that be nice. This tumor is entangled in vocal cords, blood vessels, his esophagus, two main arteries, and the top of his right lung. He can't take 5 steps without needing something to hold on to and oxygen from a tank. This is one of the single most horrific things I have ever gone through to date. I can’t even imagine what he must be going through. My dad is, was, a very physically strong man. Biker tough guy, until HE ALLOWED smoking to take that away from him. I say these things, because if you smoke I’m going to ask you to quit. “Who are you?”, you might ask. I am a grown ass woman who is nothing but a broken child faced with her fathers premature death, that’s who I am. This is quite possibly a completely avoidable series of events. The risks are real, and it can happen to you. The doctor told me today that realistically my dad has 4 to 6 months to live. 15% of people in this situation survive 2 years. Without treatment he'd be gone already. When he told me that, I felt something die inside of me. Literally, something sank and wilted. I mean, I think I held my own, I took the information in stride, but inside I was loosing control. Inside I was screaming at him, calling him all kinds of asshole and quack, telling him to shut up and give me something I could cling to. Anything, a word, a phrase I could grasp onto that meant anything other then the end. Some hope, but he didn’t. I stood there numb, choking on my own optimism. I asked him to be frank with me, he said, “This will not end well.” I couldn’t hear anything else beyond that. I just thanked him and excused myself. I don’t remember walking out of his office. I found myself in the bathroom of the 2nd floor oncology wing, on the floor, holding my knees, staring. I was close to tears but, they wouldn’t come, nothing would. Fragments of words floated in and out of my mind so fast I couldn’t make anything of them. I couldn’t put a thought together to save my life. I was so positive, even with what he said I couldn’t wrap my head around the truth of it, the certainty in his voice. I kept searching for some glimmer of hope in his words, but I couldn’t find any. I wretched myself off of the floor and went to the vanity to make sure I was presentable before heading back out into the spot light. I found I had been crying, the reflection I saw showed a blotchy, wet, mess. At that moment I felt everything I thought I wasn’t feeling on the floor come crashing into me. The horror in the eyes looking back at me was alarming. It was like I was looking at a stranger. The weight of his words had finally hit me.
For the next two days I spend a lot of time alone. No matter what I was doing, no matter how involved I was, “4 to 6” popped into my mind unexpectedly and I burst into tears. And to add to this misery, I was the only one who knew. I had decided that, brother, step-mom, and dad should know, but how do I tell them. What if they don’t want to know? How can I bring it up? I can’t hold this in much longer, but in the same breath, I can’t get it out.
Do you think given this info 5 years ago he would have prevented this pain? Maybe. Will you?
Look, I know it's tough. Even the thought makes you light up. But take it from me, an ex-smoker, it's worth it. I feel better. I can drive a car without one. I don't have to 'make sure I have enough' before I do...everything. I won't lie, I do get an urge every once in a while but it passes without catastrophe. Before, I would panic or throw a fit, my emotions went crazy when I needed and didn't have a smoke. Now? It passes without notice. Please. For the people you love, if not for fear of going through this yourself, do whatever you need to do to quit.
posted by elanflux at 11:26 PM
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