It’s been awhile since my last post. It seems I’m more apt to write when things aren’t so great. I’m back in St. Louis now, have been for a little over a month. My dad didn’t need me anymore!! Over the last few weeks I was there, he gained a lot of strength, he wasn’t on the oxygen as much, and he began to do things for himself. Of course neither of us really wanted me to leave, but to stay longer would have been a vacation that I couldn’t afford. Things had gotten as back to normal as they were going to get to. The death that seemed to loom over his head dissipated, seemingly avoided for the moment, and the tragedy, a painful fog of a memory. As he regained his strength he jumped right back into his failing business and mounting bills, stress and frustration filled every room, every hour of every day. No matter how many times he was told to slow down and take it easy, he would only do it if physically he could do no more. Then he’d collapse into his chair, pop a couple pills and sleep till the next days disaster began. I have to admit it got to me. I’m not sure if their life is always chaotic or if the majority of it was a result of what we were going through. I didn’t grow up in an angry, frustrated household, and the home I share with my husband isn’t like that so I was on edge all the time. I found myself waiting, holding my breath, longing for a good day. I was also very confused, I’m not in his shoes, but I would think a person would be damn grateful to be alive. After receiving good news from the doctor about the tumor shrinking and his exceptional reaction to the Chemo, I felt he’d been handed another chance. Even if only for a year or two. So, his attitude was surprisingly ungrateful to me. In a fit of frustration, he let slip, that we’d be better off without him. That felt like a punch. He came to me later and told me how much he regretted the words, that he didn’t feel that way and that until all of this came about he did think we would be better off, he knew better now. It felt good to hear him say that, but his actions didn’t reflect it. It’s like he completely forgot what he’d just gone through. The tears, the begging, the desperation one feels when they’ve been told they are going to die. The fucking dreadful moaning and scary nighttime rush of ICU nurses to his room. All forgotten, drowned in a ‘why me attitude’. As much as I wanted to be there, share in the “good health” he was ‘enjoying’ I was loosing my mind. It made me sad and a part of me wanted to get out before THIS is what I remembered.
As far as he was concerned he HAD to do everything, he had no choice. No more drives to the mountains, no more happy moments to save for when this was all over. Stress prevailed and because he was able to do for himself I came back home. I miss him. I miss him so much it hurts.
I think he’s slowed down though, accepted the fact that he can not be who he was before all of this happened. It hurts his ego and his pride, but he’s rational for the most part. He got pretty sick after I left and had to go back into the hospital, I think that jarred him some.
When I first got home everything seemed abnormal, off kilter. I felt out of place, if not in the wrong place. I was ‘in-between’ for a few weeks. Struggling with guilt for being home and guilt for leaving home in the first place. Then slowly things came full circle, my home was my home again, my job was something I looked forward to again. People stopped asking about my dad as soon as they seen me. They still ask, but I don’t think they really want to know, it’s just polite. Like when someone say’s “Hi, How ya?”, they don’t really expect you to go into detail. It’s o-kay though, I lie and say he’s good and we move on to a less depressing topic.
For the past month I’ve felt pretty good about a lot of things. He seemed to be doing well and I felt my being home was o-kay. I’m planning on driving back in a month or so to visit. I got so close to my brother while I was there it doesn’t seem right that I haven’t seen him in this long. He’s going into the police academy in January; he’ll make a good cop. Not cocky, down to earth, nothing to prove to anyone. Dad and Patty are talking about moving here, which would set my soul at ease and excite me to no end. It seems like we’re all optimistic, planning things, looking forward to the coming days. Dads pretty chipper and motivated. He has something to look forward to and more importantly something to DO! He’s not good at sitting idle and he gets physically over exerted easily, so planning helps him focus on something, it keeps him sane.
All things have to come to and end though. Good or bad, they don’t last forever.
Three days ago I spoke to his doctor. They’ve started Chemo again. He has spots on his liver. He said he was sorry. He actually said sorry to me! I think my heart went numb. I am so tired of this shit. I’m worn out. He’s got six months if he doesn’t respond to treatment, maybe a year if he does. There’s a good chance it could spread to his bone or his brain. I just feel beat up, emotionally undone. Every day there’s this recurring wave of ache that gathers in my stomach, reaches up through my chest and finds it’s way into my head. My face gets hot, my eyes well up, and it pushes hard against the back of my head. Then as quickly as it came, I choke in a gasp of air, and it’s gone. I’m left with a headache and tears that won’t fall. I feel like all the laughter in the world is fake; a cruel joke. I feel guilty laughing sometimes. He was never getting better, it was just a joke. I still can’t imagine what life will be like without him. I say the words, I know he’s dieing, but the truth of it doesn’t exist. Now, I wish I was there. How he must be feeling, I can’t stand the thought. I want to go for a drive with him, take both of our minds off this horribly intimidating, unavoidable journey. What it must feel like, waiting to die? Where do you go? What happens? The utter isolation of it; no matter how many loved ones are around you, you are alone. There’s no changing your mind, no ‘do overs’. In this world of choices, it’s hard to accept.
