More from the rollercoaster. (12)
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.
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home