chemical party...Cancer #9

Dad’s on a different, more aggressive chemo treatment. Apparently the one they’ve replaced was sort of typical. When this all started his condition demanded a fast course of action so, there wasn’t much time to personalize the plan. He has radiation 5 days a week as well as 5 chemo treatments. Then a 3 week break, than back on again. Well he’s had the radiation from the start…he actually glows a little a night.
Anyway, the chemo has been kicked up a few notches. Four of the five sessions last about 2 hours, give or take, and one lasts 6 hours. This chemical, Cisplatin, is pretty abrasive on the kidneys and stomach. They give an insane amount of fluids, including anti-nausea medication, to flush the kidneys and coat the stomach. It’s more abrasive but, they’ve had good results using this plan on his type of cancer. The doc said, “He’s a young, strong, and healthy guy, besides the uninvited beast that’s taken residence in his chest, and so far he’s tolerated the treatments really well” Ok, so he didn’t say EXACTLY that I may have added a little color to it. The idea is the same though. Anyway, we went in for his 1st out-patient chemo treatment yesterday. As new as all of this is, I was not ready for the chemical party room. Ten cream colored recliners wrapped around a small oval room. The farthest points couldn’t have been twenty four feet. I’m really bad at judging distance so if that’s far I’m not giving you the right idea! I could take fifteen to twenty regular steps from one end to the other. There are a few chairs filled with different types of people, in many different stages of this disease. Like the couple at the far end. If I had to guess I’d say they were in their late twenties. He’s the patient, wearing grey plaid jammy’s, slippers, and a grey shirt. Holding his hand is a pretty, dark haired woman, wearing jeans and a sweater. They have earphones on that are connected to a portable DVD player. They look very comfortable and content, smiling every now and then, I assume at the movie they are watching. He doesn’t look any sicker then me. I wonder if they were as taken with this room as I am the first time they stepped in.
Two chairs up is a woman that I had mistaken for a man. She is so tiny and frail looking. She’s wearing a light blue stocking cap, jeans, and a sweat shirt. She has no hair left, no brows and nothing peeking from under the cap. Next to her is a much healthier woman, they haven’t said a word to each other. They are very docile and sullen, so different from the first couple.
Next to them sits a woman in her mid to late twenties. Unlike everyone else she hasn’t made eye contact with me, no nod of hello, or half cocked knowing smile. You can see that the sickness just beginning to dig its claws into her, the color in her cheeks still hanging on. She’s wearing a smart looking head wrap, sweats, cute shoes and a blanket. She’s a very pretty woman. From just looking at her, I imagine she’s a very strong person, resolute in successfully kicking this diseases ass. She gives an air of confidence in the simplest of actions, the way she smiles at the nurse who hooks her up to what I’ve coined the poison dispenser, or the way she maneuvers the machine when she steps out of the room. She makes me wish I knew her, there’s depth to her eyes, a certain intensity that makes me wonder what she’s like outside of this room. If I get the chance maybe I’ll introduce myself as the daughter of the lung cancer guy. If seems the people who strike up conversation do so by asking what kind of cancer your there for. Seems fitting but, no less strange to me, I guess it goes right along with this whole experience. This room and everyone in it seem surreal. The sun filtering in from the sky light, as bright and airy as it is, does little to lift the gloomy character of the atmosphere. As I sit next to my dad in the corner of the room, I realize that we are just as foreign and unique to everyone else, yet we’re all connected. My heart aches for everyone here, and their families at home. We are all going through our own personal chaos.

On hold...Cancer #8

I have never felt so powerless. I don’t really know what I’m doing from day to day. Besides the obvious turmoil, my life is on hold. Accepting the fact that my dad has cancer and that I’ll never see him grow old is hard enough but, adding to that misery are all kinds of thoughts of my suspended future. Things were just starting to get on track, school, baby plans, etc. My situation is completely up in the air; my previous life is completely up in the air. I’m all over the place emotionally. I’m so scared to loose my dad, yet I’m anxious to start a family, but that depends on proper funds and insurance, which depends on my job, which is on the back burner. Don’t misunderstand, I’m grateful for the time with my dad, but I’m also resentful for setting everything aside, and feeling guilty for that resentment.
I’m nervous for my future, and annoyed that some individuals assume that this is easy for me. Like all I do is relax and hang out with my dad.
I have absolutely no control over anything that’s happening in my life right now. Essentially, have no job, school is delayed, my baby making clock is ticking, and the career that I finally became comfortable with striving for is further away and seems unreachable from my vantage point. Selfish? Maybe so, but I can’t help my feelings. I am also angry with how irresponsible my family has been in regard to their future. I know it’s neither here or there right now but, maybe someone will read this and take it to heart…maybe I will listen and make changes in my life to avoid some of the pitfalls I am destined for if I continue the way I am. Better, more responsible choices are where the answers are. If they would have taken better care of themselves, as young adults, I may have been able to split my time between my home life and theirs. They didn’t, and as a result we have no choice but to struggle, scrape and worry, about how things are going to get paid both in my home and theirs. Like so many people they live day to day, some have no alternative, pay check to pay check is the only way to get by, others make decisions that offer instant gratification and choose not to look to the future. When we get an extra few dollars we buy something “nice for ourselves, because we deserve it”. We live for the here and now, not expecting the future to come. We decide to deal with issues as they arise instead of plan for them. It’s a lame excuse for laziness and fear. We think that by acknowledging something might go wrong in our lives we are in some way inviting it. Thinking its better, or safer not think about it, often refusing to even discuss the possibility.
Shit happens, people don’t ask for it. Just because you avoid the idea doesn’t mean the shit won’t hit you square in your face. How you deal with it and how well prepared you are for the unexpected is completely up to you. Getting through something like this is tough enough, adding uncertainty to every aspect of your life is the only thing that is avoidable and completely your choice. I’m going to talk to someone about a plan to save, prepare for my future. I’m not wealthy, I’m not even middle class, if I had to guess I’d say lower middle class, but moving up. I don’t have much to spare, but a little each week, health insurance and some kind of a plan are better then nothing. For reasons I won’t get into, my dad isn’t eligible for social security, welfare, disability, or any other type of government assistance, so don’t depend on our government to take care of you when you can no longer care for yourself. Depend on no one but yourself.
I am struggling but, I am also very lucky to be able to be here for my dad. I don’t regret anything, this is where I’m suppose to be, this IS my life, but those facts don’t shut off my head at night, when I’m missing my husband, my education, and the baby I dream of having moving around in my belly. Its all on hold for the moment.