Unconditional

While I became excited that Dad would be heading home and recovering smoothly from his surgery, he was busy with physiotherapy and eating bland, processed food. On the day before he was scheduled to be released from the hospital, the medical team decided to remove the stitches from his chest – where they opened him up to perform the surgery.

As they began to remove the stitches, they noticed his wound re-opening. It hadn’t healed! After ten days, the wound still had not healed enough to have the stitches removed. The further they worked, the more noticeable it was that nothing was healing properly.

His surgery involved a lot of removing, moving around, and jostling of internal organs. My Dad is diabetic and the awareness was that though they knew it would take longer to heal because of this, they believed they had given his body enough time to do so. Not so.

He was rushed back into surgery and underwent another procedure. This also meant that he was going to be stuck there for another 10 to 12 days for recovery.

Easter was upon us. The long weekend loomed ahead for him, reminding him that he was alone, in a hospital, unable to spend the holiday with his family and friends.

He was so frustrated; with himself, his body, the hospital staff, his surgeon. It was just unreal how he had gone from being so happy and excited to head home, to sad and depressed and angry that he was still in the hospital.

Being hours away, I could only communicate via phone, and it felt like 10 years of my life would be taken from me during each call to him. There was nothing I could do, nothing I could say that would have possibly helped him into better spirits. So I called my brother. Not because I thought the situation was dire enough to call for it, but because I thought if Dad could just talk to him he might feel better.

My brother lives thousands of kilometres away.

After the call between Dad and Brother, Brother wound up booking a flight and staying near the hospital for three days. I still thank God he came; the effect it had on Dad was remarkable. He lit up; he was happy and talkative once more. Even though he was still feeling pretty miserable from the experience, we were able to joke and laugh and lighten the mood together. We spent a full day together with him on Easter weekend.

I can’t know exactly how much this helped him, but the phone call a few days later for an update brought an unexpected expression of gratitude out of him. I know he understands that it is difficult to be there for him when he’s so far away from us. And now I know that he appreciates our gestures so much that it is enough to bring him to tears.

You feel a strong emotion when you can do something for someone else; a feeling of pure, true, honest and unconditional love. All the better when it is reciprocated.

Into the Dark

Over a six-week period, Dad’s cancer treatments really wore him down. In the beginning (weeks 1-4), he was okay and could be on his own and was keeping up with his food intake goals and even getting some quick 10 minute walks in. Though he was depressed about his situation, he was getting through it.

By week 5, the radiation treatments were adversely affecting him. He was sick often, developed a rough, chronic, phlegm-filled cough, and could barely drive himself to his appointments. He was left with a “metal” mouth and hardly ate anything because nothing tasted good. Weeks 5 and 6 were not fun for him, but once it was over I could tell that his spirits had been slightly lifted just from the fact that the initial journey was over.

While he recovered in the two weeks after treatments and weaned himself off of various medications, he was optimistic about the results of treatment. He was sure that the tumor had shrunk; said he could feel that it was smaller. It was easier for him to eat. He could taste food again.

Then tragedy hit: His mother passed away under unfortunate circumstances. He was not able to attend the funeral due to his health condition as well as the many different appointments and tests his team had set up for him. This was a difficult time for him, but he made what he felt was the best choice, and vehemently stuck to it.

He went for a scan approximately four weeks after the end of treatment, to provide he and his team with results from the treatments. The team was also optimistic. Theirs was an aggressive approach and they thought they’d knocked it off its feet. They thought the chemo and radiation treatments had been successful.

They were wrong.

There was no change. Optimistically speaking, there was also no indication that the tumor was growing. But this wasn’t what Dad was expecting to hear. This wasn’t what his team was expecting to see. It shocked him and sent him back into that downward spiral into despair.

He will be scheduled for an intensive surgery in the coming weeks, with a 12 day recovery period in-hospital and a 12 week recovery period at home. He is enviously optimistic about the surgery. We are so much more battle-ready than we think we are, right? One little step forward at a time. Anything can be beared when it can be broken down into little bits.

Appreciate the Good Days

It’s kind of unbelievable how often I get sick. Why is that?
I caught some kind of flu bug, and I’m not incredibly happy about it because I was on a roll. I was on a really great roll. And then, I lost the roll. I ate it, or something. Was it a jelly roll? I can’t recall. I guess this kind of thing happens and it’s my job to work it out and continue on with my plan.

So, to sum things up:
Sunday – wallyball
Monday – rest
Tuesday – sick
Wednesday – walk
Thursday – lazy

Yes, yes, I’ve already labelled myself for today. I might yet surprise myself though. Never know. I could suddenly put my runners on and decide to go for a jog. Might as well make it a 6 miler while I’m dreaming.

It’s simply moments like these that make me appreciate the good days.

B&E?

I tried running on my whackjob of a treadmill on Monday, but it didn’t really work out for me. Too bad, as I can’t check out my runners appropriately without running in them. Duh. And if I run outside, I won’t be able to return them if they don’t work out. Besides, running on ice kind of sucks. Sorry, but it does. Maybe I’ll steal someone’s gym key.

Aside from that fact, shit’s been going downhill. I don’t recall actually being at the top of a hill, but no matter. We’re not at the top anymore, Dorothy.

I have a very sick friend in the hospital, and a grandmother who passed away yesterday. Moments like these make me really struggle to hold on to what is important in life. I often drop to-do’s like flies when things start to go wrong in life. And often, those to-do’s are related to my own health and happiness. It’s an issue. I am aware of it, however, and I’m not so far gone that I can’t think to take care of myself while attempting to care for others at the same time. It can be done.

After the treadmill fiasco on Monday, I started walking to work. One hour there and back. Tuesday, Wednesday, Today. Tomorrow I’ll drive because I have errands and I have no patience when it comes to getting things done. So drive I will.

Tonight I will try a core workout, and depending on my friend’s health, my grandmother’s funeral, this weekend I might visit said gym with stolen key and try those runners out again. The best thing is to have runners on when they run you out of the gym for breaking and entering.

Check Yourself

In the days leading up to Dad’s Cancer treatments, I admittedly turned into a crazy person. As I said before, I basically broke down and turned myself into a martyr. I guess perhaps I was trying to take his pain and make it my own, or at least share in it with him to ease the burden. I know now that things just don’t work that way. Unfortunately, you have to watch them suffer through it, watch them struggle with their own emotions, and be tormented by the fact there is absolutely nothing in the world you can do to make things right again.

There are still the odd ramblings and questions that stir my mind from time to time; when will this be over? will it ever really be over? why did this happen to him?

I’ll never have the answers to these questions; eventually, I had to face the facts and throw up a white flag.

On my end, I made things work by talking to my boss and getting each treatment day off work so that I could drive up the night before, take him to treatment, then drive back home for work the next day. It was non-negotiable. This was what I was going to do for him, since I had nothing else to offer but my sympathies. I didn’t question my motives at that time, but I have since. My Dad is a very independent person. Aside from the fact that he asked his spouse (who he is currently separated from) for help, he had not given any indication that my services were necessary.

When I started getting the “she can help with that” and “he’ll be around to take me“, I started to wonder why I was putting in all the effort. I started feeling avoidance from my Dad like a dark plague on my life. Now, as I was avoiding my friends and living in isolation from them, he was doing the same to me.

Around this time was when tiny arguments started. The bulldog in him met up with the dragon in me, and we went head-to-head on quite a few things. Until I smartened up and realized he is not a baby, and that he alone must live with the decisions he makes.

I got tired. I stopped feeling like I needed to be there each and every time something happened. This wasn’t the way I would have wanted it to come about, but the fact is – I came to accept that his life was his own, and so was mine. I did not only want to return to the life I’d made for myself, but I also needed to. And he didn’t need me pestering him and trying to solve his problems my way.

Do you know how long it took for all that to happen? Approximately two weeks before his treatments ended. Which is to say, six weeks from his first call about the diagnosis. You can’t teach an old dog new tricks.

It is great advice to help people out as much as you can. It is even greater advice to let them fall on their own and get up on their own. In my experience, wisdom comes from errors made. If you choose not to learn from them, that is your choice. I have had plenty of those moments in my life. And will more than likely have plenty more! But no one needs nor do they probably want another person to lecture them about their choices. They’ll find out soon enough whether their choices were accurate or not.

So I had to check myself. It’s not like that’s never happened before.

I’m trying to get myself into a new routine in regards to exercise. Slowly I want to work my tush back into jogging, but it will take some time especially since I’m having so many issues with my legs.

Since I’m one of those annoying, irritating Type-A personalities, I’ve made up a calendar for January (and February, and March) indicating scheduled workout days.

I was sick in the beginning of the month and then took a trip to see Dad, so it really shouldn’t be terribly difficult to make the second half of January look far more exercise-ier than the first half. Yes, I realize that’s not a word. I don’t care. I’m tired.

It isn’t much, but it’s a good start and that’s just where I am right now.

I did a 30 minute walk on the treadmill last night while watching a tv show on my laptop. The sound of the treadmill drowned out most of the sound from the laptop, so I’m glad I picked a cheesy show to watch. Didn’t have to be focused on it too much. I jumped on the treadmill without realizing I wasn’t wearing runners and that grew old pretty quickly, so I stopped once to throw on a pair. Then, at around minute 25 the treadmill started to make strange noises. Clattering sounds. Like something had fallen apart. I kept going, obviously. Who am I if not the Safety Bear?

Yep. That’s me.

source.

And then. At minute 28. I smelled something. Something like burning rubber. I knew something was being rubbed by something else and that it probably wasn’t a good idea to keep going. Must. Give. Treadmill. A. Break. Sometimes. Too.

But I only had two minutes left. And the smell wasn’t that bad. And nothing was actually smoking, for goodness’ sake.

Do you wonder how I get through each day? Because I do.

If I had Just One Wish

Once upon a time, I posted a quote to Facebook:

Perhaps watching someone you love suffer can teach you even more than suffering yourself can.” – Dodie Smith.

My point was that I figured I’d learn something from the experience of having to watch my father suffer through cancer, even if the only lesson was that sometimes bad things happen to good people. Guess what? Bad things happen to good people.

I didn’t know what to do with the phone that was cradled in my hands when I received the phone call from my Dad that night. I couldn’t do anything but sit silently, saying nothing, while he gathered his courage, swallowed hard and told me the frightening truth. My mind went numb; I remember saying “Oh My God“. I think I may have even said “that sucks“. I was suddenly unable to say anything appropriate to the situation. I didn’t know how to process the information, how to work my way through it, how to come out on the other end at a better place than where I’d started. The “oh…“s and “yes…“s and “right…“s flew out of my mouth simply to fill the void where a more normal, intelligent person might be saying “do you need anything?” or “I am so sorry” or “you’re going to get through this”.

A comment on the posted quote came from a friend a short time later…

“Yes, but it would be easier to suffer yourself.”

Is that true? It’s absolutely heartbreaking to watch someone you love and care about suffer with a disease, any illness, any pain. Would it be easier if I were the one to suffer? Would I take it on in his place if I could?

They’re easy questions to answer on the surface. Yes, I would sacrifice myself in order to spare him. But it’s only too easy to say it without actually being held accountable, since it isn’t something that can be accomplished. I would banish the shadows from under his eyes, if I could. I would wave my magic wand and all the documents and forms required by this organization and that company would be filled out and sent in in a matter of minutes, if only to spare him from weeks of labour and frustration.

I felt so… betrayed, when I found out Dad had cancer. Not by him, but by those higher powers, the ones that should know there is no possible way I could continue to exist in the world without my father. The ones who keep heaping things on me, with the constant expectation that I’ll be able to handle it, I’ll be able to cope. I was finished with it. Done trying. Done making excuses for all the bad karma, and I pushed the blame button.

There had to be a reason for this, a purpose. And of course it had to have something to do with me. I did this. I did this to him, somehow. It was my fault. I began to back out of social engagements, preferring to sit alone at home. I outright disregarded my closest friends who only wanted to offer support. I argued with my Mom, I spoke to my brother only through e-mail. I grilled my Dad about the disease: What would happen now? What kind of treatment will they give you? How will you feel through it all? When what he needed was some time to work through those questions for himself first.

Looking back, I realize how badly I handled the news. I’m not sure, if given another chance, anything would change. It’s devastating news, to the person with the illness, to the family and friends. I don’t think anyone faults me for reacting the way I did, but I can’t help but think of a saying I wrote down a few years ago and kept reminding myself of: You can’t control what happens to you, but you can control how you react to it.

I wish I could have controlled my reaction more, but I hardly took the time to decipher what that reaction was, nevermind attempt to control it. You can always look back at a situation and think of ways you could have handled it better. I have to stop analyzing my actions; it doesn’t matter what I did, it matters only what I do.